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I Am A Book Of Snow, A Spacious Hand, An Open Meadow, A Circle That Waits, I Belong To The Earth And Its Winter.
-Pablo Neruda
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I Am A Book Of Snow, A
Pablo Neruda
I Am A Book Of Snow, A Spacious Hand, An Open Meadow, A Circle That Waits, I Belong To The Earth And Its Winter.
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Book
Winter
Hands
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I Stroll Along Serenely, With My Eyes, My Shoes, My Rage, Forgetting Everything, I Walk By, Going Through Office Buildings And Orthopedic Shops, And Courtyards With Washing Hanging From The Line: Underwear, Towels And Shirts From Which Slow Dirty Tears Are Falling.
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You Must Know That I Do Not Love And That I Love You, Because Everything Alive Has Its Two Sides; A Word Is One Wing Of Silence, Fire Has Its Cold Half. I Love You In Order To Begin To Love You, To Start Infinity Again And Never To Stop Loving You: That’s Why I Do Not Love You Yet. I Love You, And I Do Not Love You, As If I Held Keys In My Hand: To A Future Of Joy- A Wretched, Muddled Fate- My Love Has Two Lives, In Order To Love You. -sonnet Xliv
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How You Must Have Suffered Getting Accustomed To Me, My Savage, Solitary Soul, My Name That Sends Them All Running. So Many Times We Have Seen The Morning Star Burn, Kissing Our Eyes, And Over Our Heads The Grey Light Unwinds In Turning Fans.
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As If You Were On Fire From Within. The Moon Lives In The Lining Of Your Skin.
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