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I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.
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
Winter
Spread
Uninhabited
Wings
Balcony
Loss
Balconies
Dark
Mourning
Earth
Hoping
Would
Emptiness
Love
Stood
More quotes by Pablo Neruda
Love is a clash of lightnings
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I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
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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 . . .
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We the mortals touch the metals, the wind, the ocean shores, the stones, knowing they will go on, inert or burning, and I was discovering, naming all the these things: it was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
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What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
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With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?
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I walked around as you do, investigating the endless star, and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked, the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.
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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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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.
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Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.
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Poetry is an act of peace.
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The Truth is in the prolouge. Death to the romantic fool., the expert in solitary confinement.
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Perhaps this war will pass like the others which divided us leaving us dead, killing us along with the killers but the shame of this time puts its burning fingers to our faces. Who will erase the ruthlessness hidden in innocent blood?
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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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Today is today, and yesterday is gone. There is no doubt.
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sometimes i get up at dawn, and even my soul is wet.
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Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
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My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
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Love is the mystery of water and a star.
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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.
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