But I forgot that your hands fed the roots,watering the tangled roses,till your fingertips bloomedfull, in a natural peace.
Like pets, your hoe and your sprinkling canfollow you around, biting and licking the earth.That work is how you let this richness loose,the carnations fiery freshness.
I wish the love and dignity of bees for your hands,mixing and spreading their transparent broodin the earth: they cultivate even my heart,
so that I am like scorched rockthat suddenly sings when you are near, because it drinksthe water you carry from the forest, in your voiceBy Pablo Neruda.
Take light not what I said, for I do not think I did her justice. Seeing is believing and therefore take this opportunity to familiarize yourself with her works.