The Potter, a poem by Pablo Neruda

Your whole body holds
a stemmed glass or gentle sweetness destined for me.

When I let my hand climb,
in each place I find a dove
that was looking for me, as if
my love,they made you of clay
for my very own potter's hands.

Your knees, your breasts,
your waist,
are missing in me, like in the hollow
of a thirsting earth
where they relinquished
a form,
and together
we are complete like one single river,
like one single grain of sand

Rain (Rapa Nui)

... excerpt from  Rain (Rapa Nui) 

...
Bury your twin-burning breasts in my mouth,
and let your head of hair be a small night for me,
a darkness of wet pefume enveloping me.

At night, I dream that you and I are two plants,
that grew together, roots entwined,
and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth,
since we are made of earth and rain.  Sometimes
I think that with death we will sleep below,
in the depths at the feet of the effigy, looking over
the Ocean which brought us here to build and make love.
...

Pablo Neruda