Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body
and the strake Of our boat that is made of flowers
Feasted, we guide it -
our fingers Like tallows
adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky’s hot rim
The day’s last breath in our sails.
Pinned by the sun
between solstice And equinox
drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months
and woke With the bitter taste of land
on our lips
Eyelids all sticky
and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well.
Then, We came by night
to the Fortunate Isles
And lay like fish Under the net of our kisses.
Pablo Neruda
