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Pablo Neruda

Your whole body is
A glass of wine
Or sweetness destined for me.
When I raise my hand,
I find in every place a dove
Seeking for me,
As if, my love,
You were made of clay
For my very hands of a potter.
Your knees, your breasts,
Your waist,
Disappear in me like in a hollow
Of a thirsting earth
Where they lose
A form,
And together
We become like a single river,
Like a single grain of sand.

— Pablo Neruda, “The Potter,” The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems. (City Lights Publishers; Bilingual edition April 1, 2004) Originally published January 1st 1979.

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