subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
you are more than this white head that i hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.
you are like nobody since i love you.
let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
who writes your name in letter of smoke among the stars of the south?
oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
how you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
so many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.
my words rained over you, stroking you.
a long time i have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
i go so far as to think that you own the universe.
i will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
/ excerpt from every day you play by pablo neruda