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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.
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
Stars
Names
Writes
Remember
Existed
Writing
Smoke
Letters
South
Among
Name
More quotes by Pablo Neruda
The Ardent Hymn that Unites Peoples.
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My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
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What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
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What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood?
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I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
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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?
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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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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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With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?
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It was at that age that poetry came in search of me.
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Day-colored wine, night-colored wine, wine with purple feet or wine with topaz blood, wine, starry child of earth.
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I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as virgin rocks.” - Verb.
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To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.
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Love! Love until the night collapses!
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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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Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?
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Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.
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The Truth is in the prolouge. Death to the romantic fool., the expert in solitary confinement.
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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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What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?
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