Pablo Neruda

But if every day,
every hour
you feel that you are destined for me
with relentless sweetness.
If every day a flower rises
to your lips seeking me,
ah, my love, ah mine,
in me all that fire repeats,
in me nothing extinguishes or forgets,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will stay in your arms
without leaving mine.