My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
— Pablo Neruda, from “Every Day You Play”, in Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, translated by W. S. Merwin