Literature & poetry

Pablo Neruda: Come With Me, I Said, And No One Knew (VII) Pablo Neruda: Come With Me, I Said, And No One Knew (VII) Come with me, I said, and no one knew where, or how my pain throbbed, no carnations or barcaroles for me, only a wound that love …

Pablo Neruda: Lxxxiv From Pablo Neruda: Lxxxiv From One time more, my love, the net of light extinguishes work, wheels, flames, boredoms and farewells, and we surrender the swaying wheat to night, the wheat that noon stole from earth and light. The moon alone in the midst of its clear …

Pablo Neruda: Triangles Pablo Neruda: Triangles Three triangles of birds crossed Over the enormous ocean which extended In winter like a green beast. Everything just lay there, the silence, The unfolding gray, the heavy light Of space, some land now and then. Over everything there was passing A flight And …

Pablo Neruda: The Old Women Of The Ocean Pablo Neruda: The Old Women Of The Ocean To the solemn sea the old women come With their shawls knotted around their necks With their fragile feet cracking. They sit down alone on the shore Without moving their eyes or their hands …

Pablo Neruda: Soneto Xvii Pablo Neruda: Soneto Xvii No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego: te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma. Te amo como la planta que no florece y …

Pablo Neruda: Epithalamium Pablo Neruda: Epithalamium Do you remember when in winter we reached the island? The sea raised toward us a crown of cold. On the walls the climbing vines murmured letting dark leaves fall as we passed. You too were a little leaf that trembled on my chest. …

Pablo Neruda: Poor Creatures Pablo Neruda: Poor Creatures What it takes on this planet, to make love to each other in peace. Everyone pries under your sheets, everyone interferes with your loving. They say terrible things about a man and a woman, who after much milling about, all sorts of …

Pablo Neruda: The Light That Rises From Your Feet To Your Hair Pablo Neruda: The Light That Rises From Your Feet To Your Hair The light that rises from your feet to your hair, the strength enfolding your delicate form, are not mother of pearl, not chilly silver: you are …

Pablo Neruda: The Eighth Of September Pablo Neruda: The Eighth Of September This day, Today, was a brimming glass. This day, Today, was an immense wave. This day was all the Earth. This day, the storm-driven ocean lifted us up in a kiss so exalted we trembled at the lightning …