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And what importance do I have in the courtroom of oblivion?

Pablo Neruda

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Pablo Neruda
Age: 69 †
Born: 1904
Born: July 12
Died: 1973
Died: September 23
Author
Autobiographer
Diplomat
Lyricist
Poet
Politician
Senator Of Chile
Nieh-lu-ta
Neftalí Reyes Basoalto
Pamplo Nerouda
Neftalí Ricardo Reyes
Bāblū Nīrūdā
Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto
Nieluda
Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto
Neftali Reyes Basualto
Neftali Reyes Basoalto
Neftali Ricardo Reyes
Neftalí Reyes Basualto
Pāplō Nerūda
Courtroom
Oblivion
Importance

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I want to see thirst In the syllables, Tough fire In the sound Feel through the dark For the scream.
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sometimes i get up at dawn, and even my soul is wet.
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The tomato offers its gift of fiery color and cool completeness.
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I'm not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.
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Give me silence, water, hope Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.
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I spin on the circle of wave upon wave of the sea.
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There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.
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My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
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I believed that the way passed through Man, and that it was from there that destiny had to emerge.
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I built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I built little houses, so that your eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live in them. Now that I have declared the foundations of my love, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.
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Will our life not be a tunnel between two vague clarities? Or will it not be a clarity between two dark triangles?
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How much does a man live, after all?/ Does he live a thousand days, or one only? For a week, or for several centuries?/ How long does a man spend dying?/ What does it mean to say 'for ever'?
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You & I, Love, together we ratify the silence, while the sea destroys its perpetual statues, collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness: because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics, galloping water, incessant sand, we make the only permanent tenderness.
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I was the owner of my own darkness.
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Fue adondo a mi me perdieron quw logre por fin encontrarme? Was it where they lost me that I finally found myself?
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With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?
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Whom can I ask what I came to make happen in this world? Why do I move without wanting to, why am I not able to sit still? Why do I go rolling without wheels, flying without wings or feathers, and why did I decide to migrate if my bones live in Chile?
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Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.
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I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything.
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