« My eyes went
behind a brunette
who was passing.
She was of black mother-of-pearl,
was purple grapes.
With her train of fire
she whipped my blood.
After all the girls
I always go like this.
A blonde passed
like a golden plant
swinging her charms.
And my mouth became
a wave that went
to discharge flashes
of blood on her chest.
After all the girls
I always go like this.
But towards you, without moving,
without seeing you, my distant one,
my blood, my kisses fly,
my brunette and clairette,
my big and my little one,
my vast and my petite one,
my pretty ugly girl,
made of all the silver
and made of all the gold,
made of all the wheat
and all the earth,
made of all the water
of the waves of the sea,
made for my two arms,
made for my kisses,
made, yes, for my heart. » (Pablo Neruda, The inconstant)