Pablo Neruda

(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973 / Parral)

Comments about Pablo Neruda

  • Biswa Ranjan Nayak Biswa Ranjan Nayak (9/23/2017 8:16:00 PM)

    ''“Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” ''
    I enjoy your poem deeply

    18 person liked.
    10 person did not like.
  • Subhas Chandra Chakra Subhas Chandra Chakra (9/17/2017 9:23:00 AM)

    Your poems speak more of you than we mere short sighted people can..
    Your unparalleled vision and skill of writing keeps amazing us, the lover in us is thrilled and afresh again, every time one reads a poem.

  • Erica Hollander (7/25/2017 10:33:00 AM)

    automated reading is a sin an d a disaster

  • Rosie Rock (7/14/2017 9:33:00 AM)

    nice, sounds great

  • Hassan Hayati Hassan Hayati (7/3/2017 3:20:00 AM)

    nice, full of sense

  • Account User (6/22/2017 11:19:00 AM)

    This does poem by Neruda not speak of love of another.
    It speaks of self-love.

    Read it again- and think.

    When one really loves- one does not think of being loved.
    No. Not at all.
    Read it again- and think.

  • Greg Bell Greg Bell (4/16/2017 4:44:00 PM)

    A great poet in any language.

  • Faith Fetty Faith Fetty (11/29/2016 8:14:00 AM)

    would you like to be my friend on here

  • Clement Antwi (10/30/2016 5:34:00 PM)

    I love him soo much

  • Sanili Saha (9/16/2016 11:36:00 AM)

    I can read and re-read to feel the resonance in his lines.....

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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