Explore "Autumn Returns" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A day in mourning falls from the bells like a trembling vague-widow cloth, it is a color, a dream of cherries buried in the earth, it is a tail of smoke that restlessly arrives to change the color of the water and the kisses.
I do not know if I make myself clear: when from on high night approaches, when the solitary poet at the window hears autumn's steed running and the leaves of trampled fear rustle in his arteries, there is something over the sky, like the tongue of a thick ox, something in the doubt of the sky and the atmosphere.