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“Settle your perfect hips here and the bow of wet arrows
loosens into the night the petals that form your form
let your clay limbs climb the silence and its pale ladder
rung by rung taking off with me in my dream.
I can sense you scaling the shade tree that sings to the
shadows.
Dark is the world’s night without you my love,”
― Pablo Neruda, Then Come Back: The Lost Neruda Poems

“you, my friend, could be the smoke’s daughter,
you who may not have known you were born of fire and rage,
lightning over flaming lava etched your violet mouth,
your sex in the scorched oak’s moss like a ring in a nest,
your fingers there in the flames, your compact body
rose from leaves of fire that make me recall
there were bakers in your family tree,
you’re still the rainforest’s bread, ash from violent wheat,”
― Pablo Neruda, Then Come Back: The Lost Neruda Poems