On this sun-sharp morning
The intimacy of a bird call
Nudges my heart off its perch
And drops it like a red-cheeked apple
Into the flannel-edge bosom of your dreamy orchard

White rabbits chase across the sky
There is nothing to say …
The sun rays that warm my skin
Are wordless, as are the leaves
That fall like tears to the damp ground

Fill me with roiling clouds
That i might pour down hot drops
And fill your loins with rolling thunder
And latch to your lips with lightning kisses
I want to ravish you like the sky does to earth

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I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Pablo Neruda, Chile (1904-1973)