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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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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
Pure
Sprout
Cold
Sprouts
Silence
Wrapped
Came
Bells
Death
Winter
Earth
Distance
Rain
Silent

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When did the lemons learn the same creed as the sun?
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Let us look for secret things somewhere in the world on the blue shore of silence or where the storm has passed rampaging like a train. There the faint signs are left, coins of time and water, debris ,celestial ash and the irreplaceable rapture of sharing in the labour of soitude in the sand.
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The road made wet by the water of August shines like it was cut in full moonlight
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Hands make the world each day.
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Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
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Here I came to the very edge where nothing at all needs saying, everything is absorbed through weather and the sea, and the moon swam back, its rays all silvered, and time and again the darkness would be broken by the crash of a wave, and every day on the balcony of the sea, wings open, fire is born, and everything is blue again like morning.
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Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.
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When everything seems to be set to show me off as intelligent, the fool I always keep hidden takes over all that I say.
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I had no more alphabet than the journeying of the swallows, the pure and tiny water of the small, fiery bird that dances rising from the pollen.
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I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.
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Then Scale by scale, We strip off The delicacy And eat The peaceful mush Of its green heart.
Pablo Neruda
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Love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss.
Pablo Neruda
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What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?
Pablo Neruda
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Oh each successive night that comes has something in it of an abandoned ember that is slowly burning out, and it falls swathed in ruins, surrounded by funereal objects.
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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.
Pablo Neruda
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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 want to see thirst In the syllables, Tough fire In the sound Feel through the dark For the scream.
Pablo Neruda
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What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood?
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With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?
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And what has become of it, where is that onetime love? Now it is the grave of a bird, a drop of black quartz, a chunk of wood eroded by the rain.
Pablo Neruda