Quítame bread, if you wish, take air 
but I
your laughter. but I
not take away the rose, the lance
pluck,
the
water that suddenly bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired
to
times from having seen the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter rises to the sky seeking
and
opens for me all the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest hours
your laughter, and if suddenly
see my blood staining the stones
street
laugh, because your laughter
be for my hands like a fresh sword. Seaside
fall,
your laughter must raise its foamy cascade,
and spring, love,
want your laughter like the flower I was waiting,
the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country
. Laugh
night
day, of the moon, laugh
tordicas
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you,
but when I open my eyes and close them,
when my steps go, when my steps return
,
deny me bread, air, light
, spring,
but never your laughter for I would die. Pablo Neruda
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