verses ... I
cloth and feather
just weighing, pour warm intimacy
of beds where people loved and wanted. I want poems
stained hands and everyday life.
Verses of puff pastry that
spreading
milk and sugar in the mouth,
the air and the water they drink,
love bites and kisses, I
edible sonnets, poems
of honey and flour.
...
Someone has their hands dirty mixing
so sweetly.
With us or without us
sweetness
continue to exist and is infinitely
alive
eternally revived, because
man in full mouth to sing or to eat
lives
sweetness.
Pablo Neruda
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