quarta-feira, 29 de maio de 2013

Your feet

When I can't see your face, I look at your feet. Your feet arched bone, your small hard feet. I know that you support
and that thy sweet weight
on them rises.
Your waist and your breasts, your nipples purple, duplicate the box from your eyes that there are pouo raised flight,
the wide mouth of fruit,
your rubra wig,
small mine. But if you love your feet
It is only because they walked
about the Earth and about
the wind and the water,
until I meet.

Pablo Neruda

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