Poem 5 by Pablo Neruda For you to hear me, My words Thin out sometimes. Like the seagulls draw lines on the beach. A necklace, a drunken bell For your hands smooth like grapes. And I look at my words from a distance They are yours more than mine. They go climbing over my old pain like ivies. They thus climb by the humid walls. You are the guilty one of this bloody play. They are fleeing my empty den. You pervade everything, everything. Before, they inhabited the solitude that you now enter…
