LXXVIII

I have no never again, I have no always.
In the sand victory abandoned its footprints.
I am a poor man willing to love his fellow man.
I don’t know who you are. I love you.
I don’t give away thorns and I don’t sell them.

Perhaps someone will know that I didn’t weave bloody crowns, that I fought against mockery, and that with truth I filled the high tide of my soul.
I repaid vileness with doves.

I have no never because I was, I am, I will be different.
And in the name of my ever-changing love I proclaim purity.

Death is only the stone of oblivion.
I love you, on your lips I kiss happiness itself.
Let’s gather firewood. We’ll light a fire on the moutaintop.

~ Pablo Neruda