Pablo Neruda

(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973 / Parral)

Pablo Neruda Poems

1. Still Another Day: XVII/Men 11/4/2015
2. Ode To Ironing 3/18/2015
3. Unity 6/18/2015
4. Come With Me, I Said, And No One Knew (VII) 9/9/2015
5. Still Another Day: I 11/4/2015
6. Epithalamium 10/20/2015
7. Ode To Age 5/14/2015
8. Ode to Hope 4/20/2015
9. Ode To The Cat 1/20/2015
10. The Portrait In The Rock 3/22/2010
11. The House Of Odes 3/22/2010
12. The Men 3/22/2010
13. Oda Al Tomate 3/29/2010
14. The Eighth Of September 3/22/2010
15. The United Fruit Co. 3/22/2010
16. The People 3/22/2010
17. What Spain Was Like 3/22/2010
18. Lxxxiv From: ‘cien Sonetos De Amor’ 3/22/2010
19. Waltz 3/22/2010
20. The Old Women Of The Ocean 3/22/2010
21. The Tree Is Here, Still, In Pure Stone 3/22/2010
22. Poor Creatures 3/29/2010
23. Walking Around (Original Spanish) 3/29/2010
24. Soneto Xvii 3/29/2010
25. Lone Gentleman 3/29/2010
26. Sonnet Xiii:The Light That Rises From Your Feet To Your Hair 3/22/2010
27. I Like For You To Be Still 3/21/2014
28. Ode To Tomatoes 3/22/2010
29. Triangles 3/22/2010
30. Potter 3/22/2010
31. Song Of Despair 3/22/2010
32. The Fickle One 3/22/2010
33. Sonnet Ix: There Where The Waves Shatter 3/22/2010
34. Poesia 3/29/2010
35. Sonnet Viii: If Your Eyes Were Not The Color Of The Moon 3/29/2010
36. Finale 3/22/2010
37. From The Heights Of Maccho Picchu 3/22/2010
38. The Insect 3/22/2010
39. Ode To Clothes 3/22/2010
40. The Fear 3/22/2010
Best Poem of Pablo Neruda

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

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.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,...

Read the full of If You Forget Me

We Are Many

Of the many men whom I am, whom we are,
I cannot settle on a single one.
They are lost to me under the cover of clothing
They have departed for another city.

When everything seems to be set
to show me off as a man of intelligence,
the fool I keep concealed on my person
takes over my talk and occupies my mouth.

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