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“I can feel your eyes, voyaging away, distant as that autumn,
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart of a huntress–
Where all my deep agony migrated,
Where my happy kisses fell like embers.

The skies from shipboard. Fields from the hills.
Your memory is of light, of smoke, of a still pool.”

- excerpt from “Poem” by Pablo Neruda, translated by Kenneth Rexroth