Thursday, November 24, 2011

Sonnet



What I have given you,
will never be a burden,
because
what I gave you
was always yours,
the flower or the wood,
the word or walls,
food of fleeting
love, resting or burning
in our hands.
But all
I gave you,
all I give you,
all I extend to you,
will contain this secret
voice
of
water.


Pablo Neruda