I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all dayI hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,your hands the color of a savage harvest,hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,and I pace around hungry, sniffling the twilight,hunting for you, for your hot heart,like a puma in the barrens of Quitratúe.–Pablo Neruda, “One Hundred Love Sonnets: Morning, XI”

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffling the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratúe.
–Pablo Neruda, “One Hundred Love Sonnets: Morning, XI”