You are currently browsing the monthly archive for Οκτώβριος 2012.

Your Hands
by Pablo Neruda

When your hands
leap towards mine, love,
what do they bring me in flight?
Why did they stop at my lips,
so suddenly,
why do I know them,
as if once before,
I have touched them,
as if, before being,
they travelled
my forehead, my waist?

Their smoothness
came winging through time,
over the sea and the smoke,
over the Spring,
and when you laid
your hands on my chest
I knew those wings
of gold dove,
I knew that clay,
and that colour of grain.

The years of my life
have been roadways of searching,
climbing of stairs,
crossing of reefs.
Trains hurled me onwards
waters recalled me,
on the surface of grapes
it seemed that I touched you.
Wood, of a sudden,
brought me the contact with you,
the almond-tree summoned
your hidden smoothness,
until both your hands
closed on my chest,
like a pair of wings
ending their flight.

 

 

the most clicked