Quote

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance. Don't leave me for a second, my dearest.

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
Second
Flutter
Leave
Silhouettes
May
Eyelids
Never
Dearest
Dissolve
Beach
Distance
Empty
Silhouette

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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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You & I, Love, together we ratify the silence, while the sea destroys its perpetual statues, collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness: because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics, galloping water, incessant sand, we make the only permanent tenderness.
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It was at that age that poetry came in search of me.
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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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If each day falls inside each night, there exists a well where clarity is imprisoned. We need to sit on the rim of the well of darkness and fish for fallen light with patience.
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Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
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If you no longer live, if you my beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall in my breast, it will rain in my soul night and day, the snow will burn my heart, I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall live
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And I, infinitesima­l being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.
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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.
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When I sleep every night, what am I called or not called? And when I wake, who am I if I was not I while I slept?
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Will our life not be a tunnel between two vague clarities? Or will it not be a clarity between two dark triangles?
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I spin on the circle of wave upon wave of the sea.
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When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight?
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Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit.
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I move in the university of the waves.
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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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Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.
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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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O merry, merry, merry, like only dogs know how to be happy and nothing more, with an absolute shameless nature.
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Pablo Neruda