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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.

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
Without
Shirts
Men
Loneliness
Tools
Victory
Full
Human
Humans
Book
Touches

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sometimes i get up at dawn, and even my soul is wet.
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Poetry is an act of peace.
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In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.
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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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Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
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How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running. So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.
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I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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And what importance do I have in the courtroom of oblivion?
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Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
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What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?
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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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From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.
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Once more I am the silent one who came out of the distance wrapped in cold rain and bells: I owe to earth's pure death the will to sprout.
Pablo Neruda
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Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when.
Pablo Neruda
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I should like to sleep like a cat, with all the fur of time, with a tongue rough as flint, with the dry sex of fire and after speaking to no one, stretch myself over the world, over roofs and landscapes, with a passionate desire to hunt the rats in my dreams.
Pablo Neruda
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I say love, and the world populates itself with doves.
Pablo Neruda
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I learned about life from life itself, love I learned in a single kiss and could teach no one anything except that I have lived with something in common among men.
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Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?
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The bare earth, plantless, waterless, is an immense puzzle. In the forests or beside rivers everything speaks to humans. The desert does not speak. I could not comprehend its tongue its silence...
Pablo Neruda
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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.
Pablo Neruda