Pablo Neruda’s ⁍ Sonnet 93

If some time your breast pauses, if something stops
moving, stops burning through your veins,
if the voice in your mouth escapes without becoming word,
if your hands forget to fly, and fall asleep,

Matilde, my love, leave your lips half-open:
because that final kiss should linger with me,
it should stay still, forever, in your mouth,
so that it goes with me, too, into my death.

I will die kissing your crazy cold mouth,
caressing the lost fruit buds of your body,
looking for the light of your closed eyes.

And so when the earth receives our embrace
we will go blended in a single death, forever
living the eternity of a kiss.