Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Nerudawas the pen name and, later, legal name of the Chilean poet-diplomat and politician Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto. He derived his pen name from the Czech poet Jan Neruda. Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971...
NationalityChilean
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth12 July 1904
CityParral, Chile
CountryChile
dog pet spirit
Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit.
stars night wind
I walked around as you do, investigating the endless star, and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked, the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.
blow wind soul
And our problems will crumble apart, the soul / blow through like a wind, and here where we live will all be clean again, with fresh bread on the table.
stars writing remembers-you
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
love tunnels blood
Oh love, rose made wet by mermaids and foams, fire that dances and climbs up the invisible stairs and awakens the blood in the tunnel of sleeplessness.
sunset soul empty
My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
real hero self
But when I call for a hero, out comes my lazy old self; so I never know who I am, nor how many I am or will be. I'd love to be able to touch a bell and summon the real me, because if I really need myself, I mustn't disappear.
father grief dark
The word was born in the blood, grew in the dark body, beating, and took flight through the lips and the mouth. Farther away and nearer still, still it came from dead fathers and from wondering races, from lands which had turned to stone, lands weary of their poor tribes, for when grief took to the roads the people set out and arrived and married new land and water to grow their words again. And so this is the inheritance; this is the wavelength which connects us with dead men and the dawning of new beings not yet come to light.
summer goodbye song
The morning is full of storm in the heart of summer. The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye, the wind, travelling, waving them in its hands. The numberless heart of the wind beating above our loving silence. Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees like a language full of wars and songs.
reading learning way
The hardest way of learning is that of easy reading.
blood touched
What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood? Que diran de mi poesia los que no tocaron mi sangre?
love kissing night
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, And lay like fish Under the net of our kisses.
ivy long suffering
And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy.
love blood fire
In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.