Happy Birthday, my light!
Before I love you, baby, nothing was mine
I hesitated through the streets and things:
Nothing counted or had a name:
The world was from the air it expected.
And I met gray halls,
Tunnels inhabited by the moon,
Cruel hangars that were saying goodbye,
Questions that insisted on the sand.
Everything was empty, dead and mute,
Fallen, abandoned and fallen,
Everything was inalienably alien,
Everything was from others and nobody,
Until your beauty and your poverty
Of gifts filled the fall.
– Pablo Neruda
.