Pablo Neruda - Sonnet VIII lyrics

If your eyes were not the color of the moon, of a day full of clay, and work, and fire, if even held-in you did not move in agile grace like the air, if you were not an amber week, Not the yellow moment when autumn climbs up through the vines; if you were not that bread the fragrant moon kneads, sprinkling its flour across the sky, Oh, my dearest, I would not love you so! But when I hold you I hold everything that is-- sand, time, the tree of the rain, Everything is alive so that I can be alive: without moving I can see it all: in your life I see everything that lives.