till the flower, disembodied, rises again.

Let us look

for the ancient ashes of hearts that burned,

and let our kisses touch there, one by one,

till the flower, disembodied, rises again.

 

Let us love that Desire that consumed its own fruit

and went down, aspect and power, into the earth:

We are its continuing light,

its indestructible, fragile seed

 

Pablo Neruda

Done