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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.
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
Dark
Flowers
Doe
Trees
Bluebells
Kissing
Rustic
Mountain
Cherry
Spring
Cherries
Flower
Baskets
Tree
Kisses
Bring
Mountains
More quotes by Pablo Neruda
I am made of earth, and my song made of words.
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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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I want to see thirst In the syllables, Tough fire In the sound Feel through the dark For the scream.
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I do not love you-except because I love you I go from loving to not loving you, from waiting to not waiting for you my heart moves from the cold into the fire.
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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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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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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.
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From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.
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The Truth is in the prolouge. Death to the romantic fool., the expert in solitary confinement.
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I was the owner of my own darkness.
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I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.
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Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?
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What can I say without touching the earth with my hands?
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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
It was at that age that poetry came in search of me.
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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 . . .
Pablo Neruda
And here am I, budding among the ruins with only sorrow to bite on, as if weeping were a seed and I the earth's only furrow.
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What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood?
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For now I ask no more Than the justice of eating.
Pablo Neruda
Poetry is an act of peace.
Pablo Neruda