Quotes Collection

Pablo Neruda Poems - WothQuotes

on
8/01/2017
Pablo Neruda was a Chilean poet-diplomat and politician whose real name is Ricardo Eliécer Neftali Reyes Basoalto. He was born on July 12th, 1904 and died on September 23rd, 1973 at age 69. He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971.



Pablo Neruda Poems




Love Sonnet XVII
By Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. 
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way.

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, 
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. 



If You Forget Me
By Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window, 
if I touch 
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail 
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly 
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners 
that passes through my life,
and you decide 
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness, 
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, 
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be your arms
without leaving mine.



In My Sky At Twilight 
By Pablo Neruda

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's 
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice. 
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
still your nocturnal regard as thought it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my net's of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the sore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.



It's Good To Feel You Are Close To Me
By Pablo Neruda

It's good to feel you are close to me in the night, love,
invisible in your sleep, intently nocturnal, 
while I untangle my worries
as if they were twisted nets.

Withdrawn, your heart sails through dream,
but your body, relinquished so, breathes
seeking me without seeing me perfecting my dream
like a plant that seeds itself in the dark.

Rising, you will be that other, alive in the dawn,
but from the frontiers lost in the night,
from the presence and the absence where we meet ourselves,

some thing remains, drawing us into the light of life
as if the sign of the shadows had sealed
its secret creatures with flame.



La Reina
By Pablo Neruda

The Queen
I have named you queen.
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.

When you go through the streets
No one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crowns, no one looks
At the carpet of red gold
That you tread as you pass,
The nonexistent carpet.

And when you appear
All the rivers sound 
In my body, bells
Shake the sky, 
And a hymn fills the world.

Only you and I,
Only you and I, my love,
Listen to me.



Ode To Hope
By Pablo Neruda 

Oceanic dawn
at the centre
of my life,
waves like grapes,
the sky's solitude,
you fill me
and flood
the complete sea,
the undiminished sky,
tempo
and space,
sea foam's white
battalions, 
the orange earth,
the sun's
fiery waist
in agony,
so many
gifts and talents,
birds soaring into their dreams,
and the sea, the sea,
suspended 
aroma,
chorus of rich, resonant salt,
and meanwhile,
we men,
touch the water,
struggling,
and hoping,
we touch the sea,
hoping.

And the waves tell the firm coast:
'Everything will be fulfilled.'



Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines
By Pablo Neruda 

Tonight I Can Write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. 
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance 
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, if that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses. 
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.




Pablo Neruda Poems




I Remember You As You Were
By Pablo Neruda

I remember you as you were in the last autumn. 
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.

I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house 
Towards which my deep longings migrated
And my kisses fell, happy as embers.

Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond! 
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing. 
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.



Love, We're Going Home Now
By Pablo Neruda 

Love, we're going home now,
Where the vines clamber over the trellis:
Even before you, the summer will arrive,
On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.

Our nomadic kisses wandered over all the world:
Armenia, dollop of disinterred honey:
Ceylon, green dove: and the Yang Tse with its old
Old patience, dividing the day from the night.

And now, dearest, we return, across the crackling sea
Like two blind birds to their wall,
To their nest in a distant spring:

Because love cannot always fly without resting,
Our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:
Our kisses head back home where they belong.



Leaning Into The Afternoons 
By Pablo Neruda

Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.

There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man's. 

I send out red signals across your absence eyes 
that smell like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.

You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.

Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes. 

The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I love you.

The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land.



Leave Me A Place Underground 
By Pablo Neruda

Leave me a place underground, a labyrinth, 
where I can go, when I wish to turn, 
without eyes, without touch, 
in the void, to dumb stone,
or the finger of shadow.

I know that you cannot, no one, no thing
can deliver up that place, or that path,
but what can I do with my pitiful passions,
if they are no use, on the surface
of everyday life,
if I cannot look to survive,
except by dying, going beyond, entering 
into the state, metallic and slumbering, 
of primeval flame?



Lost In the forest
By Pablo Neruda

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig 
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance 
climbed up through my conscious mind.

as if suddenly the roots I had let behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.



Love
By Pablo Neruda

What's wrong with you, with us,
what's happening to us?
Ah our love is a harsh cord
that binds us wounding us
and if we want
to leave our wound, 
to separate, 
it makes a new knot for us and condemns us
to drain our blood and burn together.

What's wrong with you? I look at you
and I find nothing in you but two eyes
like all eyes, a mouth
lost among a thousand mouths that I have kissed, more beautiful,
a body just like those that have slipped
beneath my body without leaving any memory. 

And how empty you went through the world
like a wheat-colored jar
without air, without sound, without substance!
I vainly sought in you
depth for my arms
that dig, without cease, beneath the earth:
beneath your skin, beneath your eyes,
nothing,
beneath your double breast scarcely 
raised
a current of crystalline order
that does not know why it flows singing.
Why, why, why,
my love, why?



Triangle 
By Pablo Neruda 

Three triangles of birds crossed
Over the enormous ocean which extended 
In winter like a green beast.
Everything just lay there, the silence,
The unfolding gray, the heavy light
Of space, some land now and then.
Over everything there was passing 
A flight
And another flight
Of dark birds, winter bodies
Trembling triangles 
Whose wings,
Frantically flapping, hardly
Can carry the gray cold, the desolate days
From one place to another
Along the coast of Chile.
I am here while from one sky to another 
The trembling of the migratory birds
Leaves me sunk inside myself, inside my own matter 
Like an everlasting well
Dug by an immovable spiral.
Now they have disappeared 
Black feathers of the sea
Iron birds
From steep slopes and rock piles
Now at noon 
I am in front of emptiness. It's a winter
Space stretched out
And the sea has put
Over its blue face
A bitter mask.


Dreams Day Hope Love Life Memory Sad Silence Trust Women
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