The Potter
Your body is like a glassful of wine. You are full of sweetness. You are my destiny.
When I raise my hands to touch you, I feel a dove in every place waiting for me. My love, you are made of clay for my hands of a potter.
When I make love to you, your knees, your waist and your breasts disappear in me, like in a hollow of the thirsting earth. We lose our forms and merge together to become a grain of sand or a flowing river.
~ Pablo Neruda
This is my translation of the original in Spanish.
Source: http://www.sulekha.com/groups/postdisplay.aspx?cid=1026&forumid=886130
When I raise my hands to touch you, I feel a dove in every place waiting for me. My love, you are made of clay for my hands of a potter.
When I make love to you, your knees, your waist and your breasts disappear in me, like in a hollow of the thirsting earth. We lose our forms and merge together to become a grain of sand or a flowing river.
~ Pablo Neruda
This is my translation of the original in Spanish.
Source: http://www.sulekha.com/groups/postdisplay.aspx?cid=1026&forumid=886130
posted by Ravi Kopra at 10:18 AM
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