‘Carnal Apple, Woman Filled, Burning Moon,’
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbaGL5zSQRppgTLd9DRYjP-ldSFSqiLBt3k-_5H8ELiO1K7FeQQcJC_1efciW0RnMraW4SZENKT85wq5tZjxm67eed6Wd7r7ATJR8XjXyGykVvgFoqaaZK1zhLxrY3Y0fbFO4lWTVTM4w/s320/IMG_07.jpg)
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
What primal night does Man touch with his senses?Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars, through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7zpZUAP804KirT2WCbsXpl3GdtFHEHu2Dbbz8kLJSMuEjFTyz8xIdGK-RpOUKFdhAaAfsiiHMjT6gXHMVVvs6jcFe9C4tWV_O4Mv0ndRWwi5r9gTkTKWrUgBiM7RC1rFs0Nn0D0Ag24/s320/0_04.jpg)
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
slips through the narrow channels of blood
to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.
Pablo Neruda
Няма коментари:
Публикуване на коментар