ABSENCE
Scarecly have I left you,
when you go into me, transparent
or shaking,
or restless, wounded by myself
or loaded up with love, as when your eyes
close upon the gift of life
that I ceaselessly give you.
Love of mine,
we have found eachother
thirsty and we have
drunk up all the water and the blood,
we found each other
with hunger
and we bit each other
as the fire bites,
leaving in us the wounds.
But wait for me,
save for me your sweetness.
I too will give you
a rose.
Pablo Neruda
Incluido en spanishpoetryintranslation.blogspot.com.es