The Tiger
by Pablo Neruda
I lie in wait for you among leaves
broad as ingots
of wet mineral.
The white river grows
beneath the fog. You come.
Naked you submerge.
I wait.
Then in a leap of fire, blood, teeth,
with a claw slash I tear away
your bosom, your hips.
I drink your blood, I break
your limbs one by one.
And I remain watching
for years in the forest
over your bones, your ashes,
motionless, far
from hatred and anger,
disarmed in your death,
crossed by lianas,
motionless in the rain,
relentless sentinel
of my murderous love.
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