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Love has to be…flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.
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
Like
Measureless
Flowering
Kiss
Kissing
Stars
Love
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Am I allowed to ask my book / whether it's true I wrote it?
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Love is a clash of lightnings
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Then Scale by scale, We strip off The delicacy And eat The peaceful mush Of its green heart.
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Love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss.
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Look around—there's only one thing of danger for you here—poetry.
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But when I call for a hero, out comes my lazy old self so I never know who I am, nor how many I am or will be. I'd love to be able to touch a bell and summon the real me, because if I really need myself, I mustn't disappear.
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O happy childhood! blessed youth! But once we know thy potent power But once we live all careless free No cross to mar our love-lit bower.
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I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.
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Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.
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And what importance do I have in the courtroom of oblivion?
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Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter.
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Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
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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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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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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
The typewriter separated me from a deeper intimacy with poetry, and my hand brought me closer to that intimacy again.
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For now I ask no more Than the justice of eating.
Pablo Neruda
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Pablo Neruda
Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Pablo Neruda
I want to do for you what the spring does for the cherry trees
Pablo Neruda
