I can write the saddest lines tonight.
Write, for example: "The night is starry
and shiver, blue stars in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this I held my arms.
kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I wanted.
do not have loved her great still eyes.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
think that I have not. Feel that I lost.
hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul as dew to grass.
does it matter that my love could not keep.
The night is starry and she is not me.
That's it. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is lost without her.
as though to my eyes search.
My heart looks, and she is not me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, then, are no longer the same.
longer love her, true, but how I loved.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
the other. Will be someone else. As before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
longer love her, true, but maybe I love.
Love is so short and forgetting is so long.
Because on nights like this I held my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Though this be the last pain she causes me,
and these the last verses that I write. Pablo Neruda
and shiver, blue stars in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this I held my arms.
kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I wanted.
do not have loved her great still eyes.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
think that I have not. Feel that I lost.
hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul as dew to grass.
does it matter that my love could not keep.
The night is starry and she is not me.
That's it. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is lost without her.
as though to my eyes search.
My heart looks, and she is not me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, then, are no longer the same.
longer love her, true, but how I loved.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
the other. Will be someone else. As before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
longer love her, true, but maybe I love.
Love is so short and forgetting is so long.
Because on nights like this I held my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Though this be the last pain she causes me,
and these the last verses that I write. Pablo Neruda
