Neruda, siempre Neruda

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Soneto XC

Pensé morir, sentí de cerca el frío,
y de cuanto viví sólo a ti te dejaba:
tu boca eran mi día y mi noche terrestres
y tu piel la república fundada por mis besos.
En ese instante se terminaron los libros,
la amistad, los tesoros sin tregua acumulados,
la casa transparente que tú y yo construimos:
todo dejó de ser, menos tus ojos.
Porque el amor, mientras la vida nos acosa,
es simplemente una ola alta sobre las olas,
pero ay cuando la muerte viene a tocar a la puerta
hay sólo tu mirada para tanto vacío,
sólo tu claridad para no seguir siendo,
sólo tu amor para cerrar la sombra.

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