Pablo Neruda Quotes

Chilean poet and politician (1904-1973)

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Pablo Neruda (born Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto; 12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973) was a Chilean poet-diplomat and politician who won the 1971 Nobel Prize in Literature. Neruda became known as a poet when he was 13 years old, and wrote in a variety of styles, including surrealist poems, historical epics, overtly political manifestos, a prose autobiography, and passionate love poems such as the ones in his collection Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair (1924).

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Alternative Names: Nieh-lu-ta • Pamplo Nerouda • Neftalí Ricardo Reyes • Bāblū Nīrūdā • Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto • Nieluda • Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto • Neftali Reyes Basualto • Neftali Reyes Basoalto • Neftali Ricardo Reyes • Neftalí Reyes Basualto • Pāplō Nerūda • Neftalí Reyespeneto

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I have been a lucky man. To feel the intimacy of brothers is a marvelous thing in life. To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life. But to feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know, from those unknown to us, who are watching over our sleep and solitude, over our dangers and our weaknesses – that is something still greater and more beautiful because it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving.

He who has nothing — it has been said many times — has nothing to lose but his chains.

Estoy solo entre materias desvencijadas,
la lluvia cae sobre mí, y se me parece,
se me parece con su desvarío,solitaria en el mundo muerto,
rechazada al caer, y sin forma obstinada.

I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.

If suddenly you do not exist,
If suddenly you are not living,
I shall go on living.

I do not dare,
I do not dare to write it,
if you die.

I shall go on living.

Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

One pillar holding up consolations
And don’t bother telling me anything
And so? The pale metalloid heals you?
I have a terrible fear of being an animal.
And what if after so many words,
The anger that breaks a man down into boys.

With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?

I have slept with you all night long while the dark earth spins with the living and the dead, and on waking suddenly in the midst of the shadow my arm encircled your waist. Neither night nor sleep could separate us.

وفي عينيك الحزينتين يبدأ وطن الحلم.

my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping
but
I shall go on living.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death
Perhaps the world can teach us
as when everything seems dead
but later proves to be alive.

Sonnet LXXXI

And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping ember.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away;
your eyes closed like two gray wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.