"Your breast is enough for my heart,
and
my wings for your freedom.What was sleeping above your soul will rise
out of my mouth to heaven.
In you is the illusion of each day.
You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers.
You undermine the horizon with your
absence.
Eternally in flight like the wave.
I have said that
you sang in the wind
like the pines and like the masts.
Like them you are tall and taciturn,
and
you are sad, all at once, like a voyage.
You gather things to you
like an old road.
You are peopled with echoes and nostalgic voices.
I awoke and at times birds fled and migrated
that had been
sleeping in your soul."
-Pablo Neruda, "Your Breast Is Enough"
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