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Clenched Soul

We have lost even this twilight.

No one saw us this evening hand in handwhile the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my windowthe fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sunburned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenchedin that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?

Who else was there?

Saying what?

Why will the whole of love come on me suddenlywhen I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilightand my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the eveningstoward the twilight erasing statues.

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Pablo Neruda

Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973), better known by his pen name and, later, legal name Pablo Neruda (/nə…
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