My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing. She will be another's. Like my kisses before. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes, I no longer love her, that is certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer, and these the last verses that I write for her. From Selected Poems of Pablo Neruda .