Pablo Neruda
Love Sonnet XXIIf only love would spread its savor through me!
--not to go one moment more without spring!
What I sold with sorrow was only my hands,
Dearest: now leave me with your kisses.
Shut out the month's light with your fragrance;
Close all the doors with your hair.
Only do not forget, if I wake up crying
its only because in my dream I'm a lost child
hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands,
for your caresses like the wheat,
the flashing rapture of shadow there
where you walk with me through your dream:
you tell me when the light returns.
