Entrance of the Rivers
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Jump to navigationJump to searchby Pablo Neruda
Beloved of the rivers, beset
by azure water and transparent drops,
like a tree of veins your spectre
of dark goddess biting apples:
and then awakening naked
to be tattoed by the rivers,
and in the wet heights your head
filled the world with new dew.
Water rose to your waist,
You are made of wellsprings
and lakes shone on your forehead.
From your sources of density you drew
water like vital tears
and hauled the river-beds to the sand
across the planetary night,
crossing rough, dilated stone,
breaking down on the way
all the salt of geology,
cutting through forests of compact walls
dislodging the muscles of quartz.
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