Pablo Neruda Poems
- Walking Around It so happens I am sick of being a man. And ...
- Some Beasts It was the twilight of the iguana: From a ...
- Ode To Wine Day-colored wine, night-colored wine, wine with...
- From – Twenty Poems Of Love I can write the saddest lines ...
- We Are Many Of the many men whom I am, whom we are, I cannot...
- In My Sky At Twilight In my sky at twilight you are like a ...
- Leaning Into The Afternoons Leaning into the afternoons I ...
Pablo Neruda was the pen name and, later, legal name of the Chilean poet and politician Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto. He chose his pen name after Czech poet Jan Neruda.
Neruda wrote in a variety of styles such as erotically charged love poems as in his collection Twenty Poems of Love and a Song of Despair, surrealist poems, historical epics, and overtly political manifestos. In 1971 Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature. Colombian novelist Gabriel García Márquez once called him "the greatest poet of the 20th century in any language." Neruda always wrote in green ink as it was his personal color of hope.
On July 15, 1945, at Pacaembu Stadium in São ... more »
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Quotationsmore quotations »
''A bibliophile of little means is likely to suffer often. Books don't slip from his hands but fly past him through the air, high as birds, high as prices.''Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), Chilean poet. Memoirs, ch. 11 (1974, trans. 1977).
“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 ...100 Love Sonnets
''“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” ''
''“Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” ''Pablo Neruda, Love: Ten Poems
''“Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, youll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.” ''― Pablo Neruda
Leaning Into The Afternoons
Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.
There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man's.
I send out red signals across your absent eyes
that smell like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.
You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.
Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.
The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I ...