Tag Archives: Modern literature

Pablo Neruda: Still Another Day: XVII/Men Pablo Neruda: Still Another Day: XVII/Men The truth is in the prologue. Death to the romantic fool, to the expert in solitary confinement, I’m the same as the teacher from Colombia, the rotarian from Philadelphia, the merchant from Paysandu who save his silver to …

Pablo Neruda: Still Another Day: I Pablo Neruda: Still Another Day: I Today is that day, the day that carried a desperate light that since has died. Don’t let the squatters know: let’s keep it all between us, day, between your bell and my secret. Today is dead winter in …

Pablo Neruda: Unity Pablo Neruda: Unity There is something dense, united, settled in the depths, repeating its number, its identical sign. How it is noted that stones have touched time, in their refined matter there is an odor of age, of water brought by the sea, from salt and sleep. …

Pablo Neruda: Ode To Ironing Pablo Neruda: Ode To Ironing Poetry is white: it comes from water swathed in drops, it wrinkles and gathers, this planet’s skin has to spread out, the sea’s whiteness has to be ironed out, and the hands keep moving, the sacred surfaces get smoothed, and …

Pablo Neruda: Ode To The Cat Pablo Neruda: Ode To The Cat The animals were imperfect, long-tailed, unfortunate in their heads. Little by little they put themselves together, making themselves a landscape, acquiring spots, grace, flight. The cat, only the cat appeared complete and proud: he was born completely finished, …

Pablo Neruda: Ode To Age Pablo Neruda: Ode To Age I don’t believe in age. All old people carry in their eyes, a child, and children, at times observe us with the eyes of wise ancients. Shall we measure life in meters or kilometers or months? How far since you …

Pablo Neruda: Ode to Hope Pablo Neruda: Ode to Hope Oceanic dawn at the center of my life, waves like grapes, the sky’s solitude, you fill me and flood the complete sea, the undiminished sky, tempo and space, sea foam’s white battalions, the orange earth, the sun’s fiery waist in …

Pablo Neruda: The Men Pablo Neruda: The Men I’m Ramón González Barbagelata from anywhere, from Cucuy, from Paraná, from Rio Turbio, from Oruro, from Maracaibo, from Parral, from Ovalle, from Loconmilla, I’m the poor devil from the poor Third World, I’m the third-class passenger installed, good God! in the lavish …

Pablo Neruda: The Portrait In The Rock Pablo Neruda: The Portrait In The Rock Oh yes I knew him, I spent years with him, with his golden and stony substance, he was a man who was tired – in Paraguay he left his father and mother, his sons, his nephews, …