Sonnet 11 by Pablo Neruda
I crave your lips, your voice, your hair
and in the streets I walk unnourished, quiet,
can’t eat the bread; the rising sun is getting on my nerves,
I search for liquid sound of your footsteps in the day
Am dying of hunger for your rapid laughter,
your hands the color of ripe wheat
and for the pale stones of your nails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat a sunbeam of your scorching beauty
the nose that rules that arrogant face
would eat the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes.
And hungry I go, sniffing the twilight,
searching, searching for the heat of your heart
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
This is my own interpretation, because I don’t like that some translators take the liberty of changins thematic/rhematic relations within a poem, thus distorting the impression the poet intended to produce.
You can find the original in Spanish here.