Explore "But I forgot that your hands fed the roots" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
But I forgot that your hands fed the roots, watering the tangled roses, till your fingerprints bloomed full, in a natural peace.
Like pets, your hoe and your sprinkling can follow you around, biting and licking the earth.
That work is how you let this richness loose, the carnations' fiery freshness.
I wish the love and dignity of bees for your hands, mixing and spreading their transparent brood in the earth: they cultivate even my heart, so that I am like a scorched rock that suddenly sings when you are near, because it drinks the water you carry from the forest, in your voice.