You Would Come by Pablo Neruda — Read

You have not made me suffer, merely wait.

Those tangled hours, filled with serpents, when my heart stopped and I stifled, you would come along, you would come naked and scratched, bleeding you would reach my bed, my bride, and then all night we walked sleeping and when we woke up you were intact and new, as if the dark wind of dreams had newly given fire to your tresses and in wheat and silver had submerged your body and left it dazzling.

I did not suffer, my love,

I was only waiting for you.

You had to change heart and vision after having touched the deep sea zone that my breast gave to you.

You had to leave the water pure as a drop raised by a night wave.

My bride, you had to die and be born, I was waiting for you.

I did not suffer looking for you,

I knew that you would come, a new woman with what I adore out of the one that I did not adore, with your eyes, your hands, and your mouth but with another heart, who was beside me at dawn as if she had always been there to go on with me forever.