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I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.

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
Grand
Flower
Small
Things
Thimble
Love
Vases
Spurs
Plates
Infinitely

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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.
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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.
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my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping but I shall go on living.
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O happy childhood! blessed youth! But once we know thy potent power But once we live all careless free No cross to mar our love-lit bower.
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Tomorrow we will only give them a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf which will fall on the earth like if it had been made by our lips like a kiss which falls from our invincible heights to show the fire and the tenderness of a true love.
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Look around—there's only one thing of danger for you here—poetry.
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Then Scale by scale, We strip off The delicacy And eat The peaceful mush Of its green heart.
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And what importance do I have in the courtroom of oblivion?
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Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness, and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.
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A book, a book full of human touches, of shirts, a book without loneliness, with men and tools, a book is victory.
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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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Love, how many roads to obtain a kiss.
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To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.
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Perhaps this war will pass like the others which divided us leaving us dead, killing us along with the killers but the shame of this time puts its burning fingers to our faces. Who will erase the ruthlessness hidden in innocent blood?
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I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
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Cómo se acuerda con los pájaros la traducción de sus idiomas?
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Someone will ask later, sometimes searching for a name, his own or someone's else's why I neglected his sadness or his love... But I didn't have enough time or ink for everyone. Or maybe it was the strain of the city, of time the cold heart of the clocks.
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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.
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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.
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In you is the illusion of each day. You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers. You undermine the horizon with your absence. Eternally in flight like the wave.
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