Pablo Neruda’s ⁍ Sonnet 88

March returns with its secretive light,
immense fish glide through the sky,
vague terrestrial vapors move along quietly,
one by one all things succumb to the silence.

In this crisis of the wandering weather, luckily
you joined the sea’s lives to the fire’s lives:
gray motions of the ship of winter,
the shape that love impressed on the guitar.

O love, O rose moistened by the mermaids and the foam,
fire that dances and climbs invisible stairs,
that wakes the blood in the tunnels of sleeplessness:

so that the waves may exhaust themselves in the sky,
the sea forget its goods and its lions,
the world drop into the shadowy nets.