Pablo Neruda
So that you will hear me
My words
Sometimes grow thin
As the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.
Necklace, drunken bell
For your hands smooth as grapes.
And I watch my words from a long way off.
They are more yours than mine.
They climb on my old suffering like ivy.
It climbs the same way on damp walls.
You are to blame for this cruel sport.
They are fleeing from my dark lair.
You fill everything, you fill everything.
B e f o r e y o u t h e y
peopled the solitude
that you occupy,
And they are more
used to my sadness
than you are.