Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like the world in your posture of surrender.
My savage, peasant body digs into you
and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.
I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
and night overwhelmed me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.
But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.
Oh the vessels of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!
Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad!
Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!
Dark riverbeds where the eternal thirst flows,
and weariness follows, and infinite ache.
By Pablo Neruda
