Love by Pablo Neruda

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring. I have forgotten your face, I no longer Remember your hands; how did your lips Feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that Have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to My vague memory of you. I live with pain That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will Make to me an irreperable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing Vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to Glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of Summer pain me; because of you, I again Seek out the signs that precipitate desires: Shooting stars, falling objects.