Morning by Pablo Neruda
A Poetry Reading by Sting

Naked, you are simple as one of your hands
Smooth,
Earthy,
Small,
Transparent,
Round
You have moonlines,
Apple pathways

Naked you are slendor as a naked grain of wheat

Naked you are blue as a night in Cuba
You have vines and stars in your hair

Naked you are spacious and yellow as summer in a golden church

Naked you are tiny as one of your nails,
Curved,
Subtle,
Rosy,
Til the day is borne and you withdraw to the underground world

As if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores
Your clear light dims,
Gets dressed,
Drops its leaves,
Becomes a naked hand again





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