1
You know how this is:if I lookat the crystal moon, at the red branchof the slow autumn at my window, if I touchnear the firethe impalpable ashor the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boatsthat sailtoward those isles of yours that wait for me.Pablo Neruda
2
And so this letter endswith no sadness:my feet are firm upon the earth, my hand writes this letter on the road, and in the midst of life I shall bealwaysbeside the friend, facing the enemy, with your name on my mouthand a kiss that neverbroke away from yours.Pablo Neruda