Treasure Island

Pablo Neruda

(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973 / Parral / Chile)

Sonnet XI


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.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

Do you like this poem?
3 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: hunting, hair, heart, sonnet

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda )

Enter the verification code :

  • Kentucky Refugee (12/30/2007 5:55:00 PM)

    Even in translation, Neruda has a gift for capturing the intense animal aspect of the physical longing of unrequited love. His ability to capture passion and desire wedded to a spiritual connection that transcends the body and enters the realm of the soul is unique. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »
[Hata Bildir]