Neruda For Days...

This flesh and the other will be consumed,

the flower will doubtless perish without residue,

when death--sterile dawn, desiccated dust--

comes one day into the girdle of the haughty island,

and you, statue, daughter of man, will remain

gazing with the empty eyes that rose

up through one and another hand of the absent immortals.

Pablo Neruda - The Builders of Statues