This day, Today, was a brimming glass.
This day, Today, was an immense wave.
This day was all the Earth.
This day, the storm-driven ocean
lifted us up in a kiss
so exalted we trembled
at the lightning flash
and bound as one, fell,
and drowned, without being unbound.
This day our bodies grew
stretched out to Earths limits,
orbited there, melded there
to one globe of wax, or a meteors flame.
A strange door opened, between us,
and someone, with no face as yet,
waited for us there.
The Eighth of September
written byPablo Neruda
© Pablo Neruda