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He who does not travel, who does not read, who does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself, she who does not find grace in herself, dies slowly.

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
Dies
Read
Doe
Music
Find
Slowly
Travel
Listen
Grace

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In love, you have loosened yourself like seawater
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Every day you play with the light of the universe.
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Cómo se acuerda con los pájaros la traducción de sus idiomas?
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The Truth is in the prolouge. Death to the romantic fool., the expert in solitary confinement.
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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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You can crush the flowers, but you can't stop the spring.
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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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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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I'm not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.
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Under your skin the moon is alive.
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Love is a clash of lightnings
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About me, nothing worse they will tell you, my love, than what I told you
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Tell me, is the rose naked or is that her only dress? Why do trees conceal the splendor of their roots? Who hears the regrets of the thieving automobile? Is there anything in the world sadder than a train standing in the rain?
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In the distance someone is singing.
Pablo Neruda
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The typewriter separated me from a deeper intimacy with poetry, and my hand brought me closer to that intimacy again.
Pablo Neruda
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Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?
Pablo Neruda
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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.
Pablo Neruda
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Pablo Neruda
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Look around—there's only one thing of danger for you here—poetry.
Pablo Neruda
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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.
Pablo Neruda