He said to me: "Tonight I dreamed a dream.
Your hair came down and fell about my throat.
Your locks were as a yoke about my neck,a red fan spreading on my breast.
"And I caressed them; and they were my own;
and we were bound together thus forever,by the same tresses, mouth on mouth,
like two twin laurels with a single root.
"And little by little, it seemed to me,
our limbs were so entwined that I became your body,
or you entered into mine like some sweet dreammingling with my own."
When he had finished he softly placed his hand upon
my shoulders, and looked into my eyes with such a look
I lowered them and trembled...
TO CELEBRATE YOUR HAIR
I don't have time enough to celebrate your hair.
By Pablo Neruda
One by one I should detail your hairs and praise them.
Other lovers what to live with particular eyes;
I only want to be your stylist.
In Italy they call you Medusa,
because of the high bristling light of your hair.
I call you curly, my tangler;
my heart knows the doorways of your hair.
When you lose your way through your own hair,
do not forget me, remember that I love you.
Don't wander lost--without your hair--
through the dark world, webbed by empty
roads with their shadows, their roving sorrows,
till the sun rises, lighting the high tower of your hair.