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I have never thought of my life as divided between poetry and politics.

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
Politics
Thought
Never
Life
Divided
Worship
Poetry

More quotes by Pablo Neruda

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Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
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My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
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And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy.
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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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O merry, merry, merry, like only dogs know how to be happy and nothing more, with an absolute shameless nature.
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Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
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It was at that age that poetry came in search of me.
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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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What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
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When did the lemons learn the same creed as the sun?
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If suddenly you do not exist, If suddenly you are not living, I shall go on living. I do not dare, I do not dare to write it, if you die. I shall go on living.
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I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body... and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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From scarlet to powdered gold, to blazing yellow, to the rare ashen emerald, to the orange and black velvet of your shimmering corselet, out to the tip that like an amber thorn begins you, small, superlative being, you are a miracle, and you blaze
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I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.
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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.
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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.
Pablo Neruda
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Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness, and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.
Pablo Neruda
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Then Scale by scale, We strip off The delicacy And eat The peaceful mush Of its green heart.
Pablo Neruda
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my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping but I shall go on living.
Pablo Neruda