If only you would touch my heart,

if only you would put your mouth on my heart,

your delicate mouth, your teeth,

if you would put your tongue like a red arrow

there where my dusty heart beats,

it you would blow on my heart, near the sea, weeping,

it would sound with a dark noise, with the sound

       of sleepy train wheels,

like wavering waters,

like a leave in autum,

like blood,

with a noise of moist flames burning the sky,

sounding like dreams or branches or rains,

or foghorns in a dreary port,

if you would blow on my heart, near the sea,

like a white ghost,

at the edge of the foam,

in the midst of the wind,

like an un chained ghost, at the edge of the sea weeping…

Pablo Neruda