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Pablo Neruda: Lovely One Pablo Neruda: Lovely One Lovely one, Just as on the cool stone Of the spring, the water Opens a wide flash of foam, So is the smile of your face, Lovely one. Lovely one, With delicate hands and slender feet Like a silver pony, Walking, flower …

Pablo Neruda: La Reina Pablo Neruda: La Reina The Queen I have named you queen. There are taller than you, taller. There are purer than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier. But you are the queen. When you go through the streets No one recognizes you. No one …

Pablo Neruda: Tower Of Light Pablo Neruda: Tower Of Light O tower of light, sad beauty that magnified necklaces and statues in the sea, calcareous eye, insignia of the vast waters, cry of the mourning petrel, tooth of the sea, wife of the Oceanian wind, O separate rose from the …

Pablo Neruda: Sonata Pablo Neruda: Sonata Neither the heart cut by a piece of glass in a wasteland of thorns nor the atrocious waters seen in the corners of certain houses, waters like eyelids and eyes can capture your waist in my hands when my heart lifts its oaks towards …

Pablo Neruda: Poor Fellows Pablo Neruda: Poor Fellows 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: Sonnet Viii Pablo Neruda: Sonnet Viii If your eyes were not the color of the moon, of a day full [here, interrupted by the baby waking — continued about 26 hours later ] of a day full of clay, and work, and fire, if even held-in you did …

Pablo Neruda: The Dictators Pablo Neruda: The Dictators An odor has remained among the sugarcane: a mixture of blood and body, a penetrating petal that brings nausea. Between the coconut palms the graves are full of ruined bones, of speechless death-rattles. The delicate dictator is talking with top hats, gold …

Pablo Neruda: Some Beasts Pablo Neruda: Some Beasts It was the twilight of the iguana: From a rainbowing battlement, a tongue like a javelin lunging in verdure; an ant heap treading the jungle, monastic, on musical feet; the guanaco, oxygen-fine in the high places swarthed with distances, cobbling his feet …

Pablo Neruda: Ode To Maize Pablo Neruda: Ode To Maize America, from a grain of maize you grew to crown with spacious lands the ocean foam. A grain of maize was your geography. From the grain a green lance rose, was covered with gold, to grace the heights of Peru …