Pablo Neruda Quotes

Pablo Neruda

Biography

Type: Poet, Diplomat

Born: July 12, 1904

Died: 23 September 1973 (aged 69), Santiago, Chi

Pablo Neruda was a Nobel Prize–winning Chilean poet who was once called "the greatest poet of the 20th century in any language."

Pablo Neruda Quotes

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.. Pablo Neruda
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

I want To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.. Pablo Neruda
I want
To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too..
Tonight I can write the saddest lines
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

As if you were on fire from within.

The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

You are like nobody since I love you.

In this part of the story I am the one who
dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.

Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way

I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

I want to see thirst
In the syllables,
Tough fire
In the sound;
Feel through the dark
For the scream.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

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.

Love! Love until the night collapses!

Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.

Donde termina el arco iris,
en tu alma o en el horizonte?

Where does the rainbow end,
in your soul or on the horizon?

Y por que el sol es tan mal amigo
del caminante en el desierto?

Y por que el sol es tan simpatico
en el jardin del hospital?

And why is the sun such a bad companion
to the traveler in the desert?

And why is the sun so congenial
in the hospital garden?

Sólo con una ardiente paciencia conquistaremos la espléndida ciudad que dará luz, justicia y dignidad a todos los hombres. Así la poesía no habrá cantado en vano.

We the mortals touch the metals,
the wind, the ocean shores, the stones,
knowing they will go on, inert or burning,
and I was discovering, naming all the these things:
it was my destiny to love and say goodbye.

It was at that age
that poetry came in search of me.

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.

Green was the silence, wet was the light,
the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

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.

Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.

I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.....

Love is a clash of lightnings

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.

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.

So the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.

Escóndeme en tus brazos
por esta noche sola,
mientras la lluvia rompe
contra el mar y la tierra
su boca innumerable.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos

La heradera del dia destruida.
(The heiress of the destroyed day.)

A book,
a book full
of human touches,
of shirts,
a book
without loneliness, with men
and tools,
a book
is victory.

Soy el desesperado, la palabra sin ecos, el que lo perdiò todo, y el que todo lo tuvo.

Las lágrimas que no se lloran
esperan en pequeños lagos?
O serán ríos invisibles
que corren hacia la tristeza?

By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two
together in their sleep will defeat the darkness

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?

yo te amo para comenzar a amarte,
para recomenzar el infinito
y para no dejar de amarte nunca:
por eso no te amo todavía.

I like for you to be still: it is as though you are absent
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died
One word then, one smile is enough
And I'm happy; happy that it's not true

And tell me everything, tell chain by chain,
and link by link, and step by step;
sharpen the knives you kept hidden away,
thrust them into my breast, into my hands,
like a torrent of sunbursts,
an Amazon of buried jaguars,
and leave me cry: hours, days and years,
blind ages, stellar centuries.

Si todos los rios son dulces
de donde saca sal el mar?

If all rivers are sweet
where does the sea get its salt?

Fue adondo a mi me perdieron
quw logre por fin encontrarme?

Was it where they lost me
that I finally found myself?

What will they say about my poetry
who never touched my blood?

Que diran de mi poesia
los que no tocaron mi sangre?

Como se acuerda con los pajaros
la traduccion de sus idiomas?

How is the translation of their languages
Arranged with the birds?

I hold a dramatic and romantic concept of life; What doesn't touch my senses means nothing to me

Έχω για τη ζωή μιαν αντίληψη δραματική και ρομαντική. Ο,τι δεν αγγίζει βαθιά την ευαισθη

Do you not hear the constant victory,
in the human footrace
of time, slow as fire,
sure, and thick and Herculean
accumulating its volume and adding its sad fiber?

With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?

I move in the university of the waves.

And the heart sounds like a sour conch,
calls, oh sea, oh lament, oh molten panic,
scattered in the unlucky and disheveled waves:
the sea reports sonorously
on its languid shadows, its green poppies.

Madre de piedra, espuma de los cóndores.

Alto arrecife de la aurora humana.

Pala perdida en la primera arena.

I remembered you with my soul clenched

How did the abandoned bicycle
win its freedom?

Como se reparten el sol en el naranjo las naranjas?

How do the oranges divide up sunlight in the orange tree?

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.

Y algo golpeaba en mi alma,
fiebre o alas perdidas,
y me fui haciendo solo,
descifrando
aquella quemadura
y escribí la primera línea vaga,
vaga, sin cuerpo, pura,
tontería
pura sabiduría
del que no sabe nada,
y vi de pronto
el cielo
desgranado
y abierto.

Hay una estrella mas abierta
que la palabra 'amapola'?

Is there a star more wide open
than the word 'poppy"?

De noche, amada, amarra tu corazón al mío
y que ellos en el sueño derroten las tinieblas

Cumpliendo con mi oficio
piedra con piedra, pluma a pluma,
pasa el invierno y deja
sitios abandonados,
habitaciones muertas:
yo trabajo y trabajo,
debo substituir
tantos olvidos,
llenar de pan las tinieblas,
fundar otra vez la esperanza.

Share Page

Pablo Neruda Wiki

Pablo Neruda At Amazon