Sonnet LXXXII

My love, at the shutting of this door of night

I ask of you, love, a journey through a dark pound:

shut out your dreams: enter with your sky my eyes:

stretch out in my blood as if in a wide river.

 

Goodbye, goodbye, cruel clarity that was dropped

into the bag of every day of the past:

goodbye to every gleam of clocks or oranges:

welcome oh shadow, periodic friend!

 

In this boat, or water, or death, or new life,

one more time we unite, slumbering, resurrected:

we are the marriage of the night in the blood.

 

I don’t know who lives or dies, sleeps or wakes,

but it is your heart that delivers,

to my chest, the gifts of the dawn.

 

Pablo Neruda

 

private place

Done