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(Pablo Neruda 1924) "Every day you play with the light of the universe. Subtle visitor, you arrive at the flower and the water. You are more than this white head that I hold tightly as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands...
"Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window. The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish. Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them...
"You are here. Oh, you do not run away. You will answer me to the last cry. Cling to me as though you were frightened... Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle... While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies. I love you..."
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