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… - Pablo Neruda

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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.

Spanish
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About Pablo Neruda

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).

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

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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Additional quotes by Pablo Neruda

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.

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Tell me, is the rose naked
or is that her only dress?

Why do trees conceal
the splendor of their roots?

Who hears the regrets
of the thieving automobile?

Is there anything in the world sadder
than a train standing in the rain?

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