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Bitter love, a violet with it's crown of thorns in a thicet of spiky passions, spear of sorrow, corolla of rage: how did you come to conquer my soul? What brought you?

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
Brought
Violet
Sorrow
Thorns
Passion
Crown
Soul
Crowns
Come
Passions
Love
Conquer
Spiky
Rage
Spear
Bitter
Spears

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Two things make a story. The net and the air that falls through the net.
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Tonight I can write the saddest lines...Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.
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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.
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Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything, without anguish, death, winter waiting along it with their eyes open through the dew.
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Who do I belong to? How come I mortgaged my being till I don't belong to myself? How come I sold my blood? And who now owns my indecisions, my hands, my private pain, my pride?
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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.
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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.
Pablo Neruda
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Your house sounds like a train at midday, the wasps buzz, the saucepans sing, the waterfall enumerates the deeds of the dew . . .
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What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
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I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Pablo Neruda
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With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?
Pablo Neruda
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To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.
Pablo Neruda
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I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body... and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
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Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.
Pablo Neruda
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To feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know ... widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.
Pablo Neruda
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I spin on the circle of wave upon wave of the sea.
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Look around—there's only one thing of danger for you here—poetry.
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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.
Pablo Neruda
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Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
Pablo Neruda
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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.
Pablo Neruda