Pablo Neruda Quotes
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Our love was born outside the walls, in the wind, in the night, in the earth, and that's why the clay and the flower, the mud and the roots know your name.
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Preguntaréis: ¿Y dónde están las lilas?¿Y la metafísica cubierta de amapolas?¿Y la lluvia que a menudo golpeabasus palabras llenándolasde agujeros y pájaros?
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Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
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I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.
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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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Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos.
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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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My duty moves along with my song: I am I am not: that is my destiny. I exist not if I do not attend to the pain of those who suffer: they are my pains. For I cannot be without existing for all, for all who are silent and oppressed, I come from the people and I sing for them: my poetry is song and punnishment.
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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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A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.
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The books that help you most are those which make you think that most. The hardest way of learning is that of easy reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and beauty.
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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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Donde termina el arco iris, en tu alma o en el horizonte? Where does the rainbow end, in your soul or on the horizon?
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But from each crime are born bullets that will one day seek out in you where the heart lies.
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Debajo de tu piel vive la luna.
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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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¿Quién escribe tu nombre con letras de humo entre las estrellas del sur?Ah déjame recordarte cómo eras entonces, cuando aún no existías.
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Como se reparten el sol en el naranjo las naranjas? How do the oranges divide up sunlight in the orange tree?
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Estoy solo entre materias desvencijadas,la lluvia cae sobre mí, y se me parece,se me parece con su desvarío,solitaria en el mundo muerto,rechazada al caer, y sin forma obstinada.
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I learned about life from life itself, love I learned in a single kiss and could teach no one anything except that I have lived with something in common among men.
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When everything seems to be set to show me off as intelligent, the fool I always keep hidden takes over all that I say.
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You can say anything you want, yessir, but it's the words that sing, they soar and descend...I bow to them...I love them, I cling to them, I run them down, I bite into them, I melt them down...I love words so much...The unexpected ones...The ones I wait for greedily or stalk until, suddenly, they drop.
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And I, a materialist who does not believe in the starry heaven promised to a human being, for this dog and for every dog I believe in heaven, yes, I believe in a heaven that I will never enter, but he waits for me wagging his big fan of a tail so I, soon to arrive, will feel welcomed.
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And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.