Pablo Neruda Poem

Love, love, his and hers,

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Love, love, his and hers,
if they’ve gone, where did they go?

Yesterday, yesterday I asked my eyes
when will we see each other again?

And when you change the landscape
is it with bare hands or with gloves?

How does rumor of the sky smell
when the blue of water sings?

If the butterfly transmogrifies
And when light was forged

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