For my heart just your chest,
enough for your freedom my wings. From my mouth
will be up to the sky,
what had fallen asleep on your soul. In you is the illusion of each day.
comes as the dew on flowers. Excavations
the horizon with your absence.
Eternally in flight like the wave. I said I sang in the wind like the pines and
as the mast.
like being tall are you and taciturn.
And you cast down suddenly, like a journey. Comfortable as an old road.
you populate echoes and nostalgic voices.
I woke up, sometimes emigrate and flee
birds sleeping in your soul.
(Pablo Neruda)
enough for your freedom my wings. From my mouth
will be up to the sky,
what had fallen asleep on your soul. In you is the illusion of each day.
comes as the dew on flowers. Excavations
the horizon with your absence.
Eternally in flight like the wave. I said I sang in the wind like the pines and
as the mast.
like being tall are you and taciturn.
And you cast down suddenly, like a journey. Comfortable as an old road.
you populate echoes and nostalgic voices.
I woke up, sometimes emigrate and flee
birds sleeping in your soul.
(Pablo Neruda)
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