When your hands go out,
love, toward mine,
what do they bring me flying?
Why do they stop
at my mouth, suddenly,
why do I recognize them
as if then, before,
I had touched them,
as if before they existed
they had passed over
my forehead, my waist?
Their softness came
flying over time,
over the sea, over the smoke,
over the spring,
and when you placed
your hands on my chest,
I recognized those golden
dove wings,
I recognized that clay
and that color of wheat.
All the years of my life
I walked around looking for them.
I went up the stairs,
I crossed the roads,
trains carried me,
waters brought me,
and in the skin of the grapes
I thought I touched you.
The wood suddenly
brought me your touch,
the almond announced to me
your secret softness,
until your hands
closed on my chest
and there like two wings
they ended their journey.
translated by Donald D. Walsh
Leonard Durso 
Reblogged this on Leonard Durso.
I have no idea how you feel about re-blogs, so I must ask if it would be okay to re-blog this? It is beautiful my friend.
Please do. Love having Neruda being read by as many people as possible.
Huge smiles and hugs of gratitude. I would love to share this. Thanks my friend. 🙂
Reblogged this on Busy Mind Thinking and commented:
Leonard posted this and I love it; hence the re-blog. I feel guilty receiving the likes, so please direct them to the original site if you can . Thank you. 🙂
Thank you for reblogging this Neruda poem.
The pleasure is mine. Through you and other friends here, I am reminded of all the beautiful works that exist. 🙂
I love, love, love Neruda! 🙂 ❤
So do I.
😊❤️