Save me a fragment of violent foam / save me a rifle, save a plow for me / and let them place it at my grave / with a red ear of grain from your soil, / that it be known, if there be any doubt, / that I died loving you and you loved me, / and if I did not fight in your waist / I leave in your honor this dark grenade, / this song of love
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda