Your Hands

Poetry by, Pablo Neruda

All the years of my life

I walked around looking for them.

I went up the stairs,

I crossed the roads,

trains carried me,

waters brought me

and in the skin of the grapes,

I thought I touched you.

The wood suddenly brought me your touch,

the almond announced to me your secret softness,

until your hands closed on my chest

and there like two wings

they ended their journey.