Carnal apple. Woman filled, burning moon, 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: Love is a war of lightening, 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.
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffling the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratúe.
–Pablo Neruda, “One Hundred Love Sonnets: Morning, XI”