Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain. I love you still among these cold things. Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vesselsthat cross the sea towards no arrival. I see myself forgotten like those old anchors. The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there. My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose. I love what I do not have. You are so far. My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights. But night comes and starts to sing to me.
Pablo NerudaAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer, Diplomat, Poet
- Nationality: chilean
- Born: July 12, 1904
- Died: September 23, 1973
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Look at me," he said, glancing
down at his legs. "A wretched old man in a red monkey suit. A convicted murderer about
to be gassed like an animal. And look at you. A fine young man with a beautiful
education and a bright future. Where in the world did I go wrong? What happened to me?
I've spent my
life hating people, and look what I have to show for it. You, you don't hate anybody. And
look where you're headed. We have the same blood. Why am I here?
John Grisham