A Desperate Song.
I can write the most sad verses tonight.
Thinking that I don't have her. Feeling that I've lost her.
Listening to the immense night. More immense without her.
And the verse falls on the soul like dew on the grass.
It matters so much that my love couldn't hold her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is everything. Far away someone sings. Far away.
My soul cannot content itself with having lost her.
Selected lines from Pablo Neruda
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