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Absence, by Pablo Neruda

I have scarcely left you

when you go in me, crystalline, 

or trembling, 

or uneasy, wounded by me

or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes

close upon the gift of life

that without cease I give you.

My love,

we have found each other

thirsty and we have 

drunk up all the water and the blood,

we found each other


and we bit each other

as fire bites,

leaving wounds in us.

But wait for me, 

keep for me your sweetness.

I will give you too

a rose.

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