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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476037" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Finale</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476037" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Matilde, years or days <br>sleeping, feverish, <br>here or there, <br>gazing off, <br>twisting my spine, <br>bleeding true blood, <br>perhaps I awaken <br>or am lost, sleeping: <br>hospital beds, foreign windows, <br>white uniforms of the silent walkers, <br>the clumsiness of feet. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476037" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And then, these journeys <br>and my sea of renewal: <br>your head on the pillow, <br>your hands floating <br>in the light, in my light, <br>over my earth. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476037" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It was beautiful to live <br>when you lived! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=476037" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The world is bluer and of the earth <br>at night, when I sleep <br>enormous, within your small hands</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Pablo+Neruda">Pablo Neruda</a></strong></div>

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