Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Pablo Neruda


Pablo Neruda has to be one of my favorite poets. I don't know why I love poetry so much, maybe because somehow it feels like it touches my soul, it puts beautiful and exquisite words to my emotions and feelings. I hope you love some of Pablo Neruda's poems as much as I do. One thing to say though, is that poetry should never be rushed. Read it slowly, take it in! :) Here are some of my favorite selections from his work:  


"I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

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.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

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 blood."

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 "Love.

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming 
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring. 
I have forgotten your face, I no longer 
Remember your hands; how did your lips 
Feel on mine? 

Because of you, I love the white statues 
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that 
Have neither voice nor sight. 

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; 
I have forgotten your eyes. 

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to 
My vague memory of you. I live with pain 
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will 
Make to me an irreperable harm. 

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing 
Vines on melancholy walls. 

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to 
Glimpse you in every window. 

Because of you, the heady perfumes of 
Summer pain me; because of you, I again 
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires: 
Shooting stars, falling objects."  

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"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. 

I hunger for your sleek laugh, 
your hands the color of a savage harvest, 
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, 
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. 

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, 
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, 
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, 

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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"But I love your feet 
only because they walked 
upon the earth and upon 
the wind and upon the waters, 
until they found me." 

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"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, 
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. 
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, 
in secret, between the shadow and the soul. 

I love you as the plant that never blooms 
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; 
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, 
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. 
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; 
so I love you because I know no other way than this: 

where I does not exist, nor you, 
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, 
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. " 


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"The days aren't discarded or collected, they are bees 
that burned with sweetness or maddened 
the sting: the struggle continues, 
the journeys go and come between honey and pain. 
No, the net of years doesn't unweave: there is no net. 
They don't fall drop by drop from a river: there is no river. 
Sleep doesn't divide life into halves, 
or action, or silence, or honor: 
life is like a stone, a single motion, 
a lonesome bonfire reflected on the leaves, 
an arrow, only one, slow or swift, a metal 
that climbs or descends burning in your bones."

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