Pablo Neruda Quotes
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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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Maybe someone will know I didn't weave crowns to draw blood; that I faught against mockery; that I did fill the high tide of my soul with truth. I repaid vileness with doves.
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We have to discard the past / and, as one builds / floor by floor, window by window, / and the building rises, / so do we keep shedding - first, broken tiles, / then proud doors... and each new day / gleams / like an empty / plate.
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You came to my life with what you were bringing, made of light and bread and shadow I expected you, and Like this I need you, Like this I love you, and to those who want to hear tomorrow that which I will not tell them, let them read it here, and let them back off today because it is early for these arguments.
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And our problems will crumble apart, the soul / blow through like a wind, and here where we live will all be clean again, with fresh bread on the table.
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Fue adondo a mi me perdieron quw logre por fin encontrarme? Was it where they lost me that I finally found myself?
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I don't want to go on being a root in the dark, vacillating, stretched out, shivering with sleep, downward, in the soaked guts of the earth, absorbing and thinking, eating each day.
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Nobody can claim the name of Pedro, nobody is Rosa or María, all of us are dust or sand, all of us are rain under rain. They have spoken to me of Venezuelas, of Chiles and Paraguays; I have no idea what they are saying. I know only the skin of the earth and I know it has no name.
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Sufre mas el que espera siempre que aquel que nunca espero a nadie? Does he who is always waiting suffer more than he who’s never waited for anyone?
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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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So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.
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You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
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Love is not about property, diamonds and gifts. It is about sharing your very self with the world around you.
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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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I have named you queen. There are taller than you, taller. There are purer than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier. But you are the queen.
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I love you only because it's you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
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And I, infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.
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When I got the chance I asked them a slew of questions. They offered to burn me; it was the only thing they knew.
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And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.
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Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when.
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And it follows that I am, because you are: it follows from 'you are', that I am, and we: and, because of love, you will, I will, we will, come to be.
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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.
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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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Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit.