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When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight?

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
Flight
Towards
Mines
Mine
Bring
Hands
Love
Leap

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Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.
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When did the lemons learn the same creed as the sun?
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Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
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Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin in my hand.
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I am everybody and every time, I always call myself by your name.
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I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
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I think it was very informative, but a lot still needs to be done.
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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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I believed that the way passed through Man, and that it was from there that destiny had to emerge.
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To feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know ... widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.
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As slippery as smooth grapes, words exploding in the light like dormant seeds waiting in the vaults of vocabulary, alive again, and giving life: once again the heart distills them.
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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.
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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Love has to be…flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.
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Love, how many roads to obtain a kiss.
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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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It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
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I should like to sleep like a cat, with all the fur of time, with a tongue rough as flint, with the dry sex of fire and after speaking to no one, stretch myself over the world, over roofs and landscapes, with a passionate desire to hunt the rats in my dreams.
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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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Tonight I can write the saddest lines...Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.
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