Sonnet LXIV
My life was tinted purple by so much love,
and I veered helter-skelter like a blinded bird
till I reached your window, my friend:
you heard the murmur of a broken heart.
There from the shadows I rose to your breast:
without being or knowing, I flew up the towers of wheat,
I surged to life in your hands,
I rose from the sea to your joy.
No one can reckon what I owe you, love,
what I owe you is lucid, it is like a root
from Arauco, what I owe you, love.
Clearly, it is like a star, all that I owe you,
what I owe you is like a well in the wilderness
where time watches over the wandering lightning.
©Pablo Neruda
