Neruda
42 creative works found
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Fantastic Poem!!
by mcvalHere is a fantastic Poem by Pablo Neruda… And because Love battles / / And because love battles / not only in its burning agricultu…
Here is a fantastic Poem by Pablo Neruda… And because Love battles / / And because love battles / not only in its burning agricultures / but also in the mouth of men and women, / I will finish off by taking the path away / to those who between my chest and your fragrance / want to interpose their obscure plant. About me, nothing worse / they will tell you, my love, / than what I told you. I lived in the prairies / before I got to know you / and I did not wait love but I was / laying in wait for and I jumped on the rose. What more can they tell you? / I am neither good nor bad but a man, / and they will then associate the danger / of my life, which you know / and which with your passion you shared. And good, this danger / is danger of love, of complete love / for all life, / for all lives, / and if this love brings us / the death and the prisons, / I am sure that your big eyes, / as when I kiss them, / will then close with pride, / into double pride, love, / with your pride and my pride. But to my ears they will come before / to wear down the tour / of the sweet and hard love which binds us, / and they will say: “The one / you love, / is not a woman for you, / Why do you love her? I think / you could find one more beautiful, / more serious, more deep, / more other, you understand me, look how she’s light, / and what a head she has, / and look at how she dresses, / and etcetera and etcetera”. And I in these lines say: / Like this I want you, love, / love, Like this I love you, / as you dress / and how your hair lifts up / and how your mouth smiles, / light as the water / of the spring upon the pure stones, / Like this I love you, beloved. To bread I do not ask to teach me / but only not to lack during every day of life. / I don’t know anything about light, from where / it comes nor where it goes, / I only want the light to light up, / I do not ask to the night / explanations, / I wait for it and it envelops me, / And so you, bread and light / And shadow are. You came to my life / with what you were bringing, / made / of light and bread and shadow I expected you, / and Like this I need you, / Like this I love you, / and to those who want to hear tomorrow / that which I will not tell them, let them read it here, / and let them back off today because it is early / for these arguments. Tomorrow we will only give them / a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf / which will fall on the earth / like if it had been made by our lips / like a kiss which falls / from our invincible heights / to show the fire and the tenderness / of a true love.
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...written on the side of a store in Isla Negra, where you can still find one of Pablo Neruda houses, today a museum!
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Pablo Neruda’s bottle collection in the window of his house at Isla Negra, Chile
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This is a timeless image of the Pacific ocean with beautiful color hues of blue that meld into the horizon. Pablo Neruda, the brilliant Chilean poet often wrote of the sea with astounding metaphors. / “Enigmas, You’ve asked me what the lobster is weaving there with his golden feet? I reply, the ocean knows this. You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent belly? What is it waiting for? I tell you it is waiting for time, like you. You ask me whom the Macrocystis alga hugs in its arms? Study, study it, at a certain hour, in a certain sea I know. You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhal, and I reply by describing how the sea unicorn with the harpoon in it dies. You inquire about the kingfisher’s feathers, which tremble in the pure springs of the southern tides? Or you’ve found in the cards a new question touching on the crystal architecture of the sea anemone, and you’ll deal that to me now? You want to understand the electric nature of the ocean spines? The armored stalactite that breaks as it walks? The hook of the angler fish, the music stretched out in the deep places like a thread in the water? I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its jewel boxes is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure, and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the petal hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl. I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead of human eyes, dead in those darknesses, of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes on the timid globe of an orange. I walked around as you do, investigating the endless star, and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked, the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.” / Pablo Neruda (Please view in larger format) / Translated by Robert Bly
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Trees have so many sizes, shapes and many anthropomorphic forms. I love the massive strenth of the brances as they tower over me demonstrating the power and beauty of nature. This appears to be a woman reflecting the light and dark parts of her soul as her tall long elegant skirt reaches far above me. I am reminded of a poem by Pablo Neruda, “I like For You To Be Still.” “I Like You To Be Still.” ....as all things are filled with my soul you emerge from things, filled with soul You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream, and you are like the word Melancholy. I like for you to be still and you seem so far away It sounds like you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove. And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you. Let me come to be still in your silence.” / Pablo Neruda
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Now the earth is spinning round me, / dizzying me, / like metal at the sound of the bell. Now I have all I have loved / within my little universe, / the starred order of waves, / the sudden disorder of stones. / Far off, a city in rags, / calling me, poor siren, / so that my heart can never, no, / scorn its weight of obligation, / and I with sky and poems / in the light of all I love, / poised here, swithering, / raising the cup of my song. Oh dawn, breaking out of / the shadow and the moon in the sea, / I always come back to your burning salt. / It is your solitude always which moves me / and, back once more, I don’t know who I am. / I touch the hard sand, I look at the sky, / I walk without knowing where I am going, / until out of the night / indescribable flowers rise and fall; / in the salty air / of the coast the stars quiver. Wandering love, I come back / with this heart both fresh and wearied, / belonging to water and sand, / to the dry spaces of the shore, / to the white war of the foam. Pablo Neruda~
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You start dying slowly
by Larry StewartYou start dying slowly You start dying slowly / if you do not travel, / if you do not read, / If you do not listen to the sounds of l…
I find this poem by Pablo Neruda to be very inspiring….
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I do not love you except because I love you; / I go from loving to not loving you, / From waiting to not waiting for you / My heart moves from cold to fire. I love you only because it’s you the one I love; / I hate you deeply, and hating you / Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you / Is that I do not see you but love you blindly. Maybe January light will consume / My heart with its cruel / Ray, stealing my key to true calm. In this part of the story I am the one who / Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, / Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood. Words by Pablo Neruda who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971. Words that we can all relate to. Happy New Year From The Sparrows Music – The Blue Danube – Andre Rieu 1st January 2009
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Ode To Wine – Pablo Neruda / / Day-colored wine, / night-colored wine, / wine with purple feet / or wine with topaz blood, / wine, / starry child / of earth, / wine, smooth / as a golden sword, / soft / as lascivious velvet, / wine, spiral-seashelled / and full of wonder, / amorous, / marine; / never has one goblet contained you, / one song, one man, / you are choral, gregarious, / at the least, you must be shared. / At times / you feed on mortal / memories; / your wave carries us / from tomb to tomb, / stonecutter of icy sepulchers, / and we weep / transitory tears; / your / glorious / spring dress / is different, / blood rises through the shoots, / wind incites the day, / nothing is left / of your immutable soul. / Wine / stirs the spring, happiness / bursts through the earth like a plant, / walls crumble, / and rocky cliffs, / chasms close, / as song is born. / A jug of wine, and thou beside me / in the wilderness, / sang the ancient poet. / Let the wine pitcher / add to the kiss of love its own. My darling, suddenly / the line of your hip / becomes the brimming curve / of the wine goblet, / your breast is the grape cluster, / your nipples are the grapes, / the gleam of spirits lights your hair, / and your navel is a chaste seal / stamped on the vessel of your belly, / your love an inexhaustible / cascade of wine, / light that illuminates my senses, / the earthly splendor of life. But you are more than love, / the fiery kiss, / the heat of fire, / more than the wine of life; / you are / the community of man, / translucency, / chorus of discipline, / abundance of flowers. / I like on the table, / when we’re speaking, / the light of a bottle / of intelligent wine. / Drink it, / and remember in every / drop of gold, / in every topaz glass, / in every purple ladle, / that autumn labored / to fill the vessel with wine; / and in the ritual of his office, / let the simple man remember / to think of the soil and of his duty, / to propagate the canticle of the wine.
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“You will remember, / That time was like never, and like always. / So we go there, where nothing is waiting; / we find everything waiting there.” ~ Pablo Neruda ~
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Canto della tristezza – Pablo Neruda Non resta che invocare il tuo nome, creatore della vita: / soffro, ma tu soltanto sei nostro amico! / Parliamo solo il tuo incantevole linguaggio, / diciamo il perché della mia tristezza: / Cerco la grazia dei tuoi fiori, / l’allegria dei tuoi canti, i tuoi tesori. / Dicono che in cielo vi sia gioia, / vita e letizia: lì risuona il tamburo, / il canto è incessante e con esso si dissolvono / il nostro pianto e la tristezza, / nella sua casa dimora la vita… / questo sanno i vostri cuori, / oh principi! Pablo Neruda
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For Neruda
by jjgmailcalling out to the ocean to safeguard / the heavy scent of your copihues, / the chicken to your hen, and I thank you / for the lessons of ve…
a small offering to neruda who inspires me everyday
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Coast Of Chile / Pacific Ocean / Isla Negra Beach – Where Pablo Neruda lived (Nobel Price) / Near Valparaiso – Central Chile / Chile / Latin America Canon Powershot G1
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Coast of Chile / Pacific Ocean / Beach of Isla Negra (where Pablo Neruda lived) / Latin America Canon Powershot G1
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Coast of Chile – Pacific Ocean / Isla Negra (where Pablo Neruda lived) / Chile / Latin America / Tribute to Pablo Neruda RIP (Nobel Price – Literature) Visiting Pablo Nerudas Private Residency – Nowadays a Museum – Photo taken from Nerudas Private Garden – Neruda was a collector of maritim subjects, he loved the Sea Canon Powershot G1
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PENICHE / PORTUGAL / . / . / . / . / SONATA / Pablo Neruda / . / . / 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 your unbreakable thread of snow. Nocturnal sugar, spirit / of the crowns, / ransomed / human blood, your kisses / send into exile / and a stroke of water, with remnants of the sea, / neats on the silences that wait for you / surrounding the worn chairs, wearing out doors. Nights with bright spindles, / divided, material, nothing / but voice, nothing but / naked every day. Over your breasts of motionless current, / over your legs of firmness and water, / over the permanence and the pride / of your naked hair / I want to be, my love, now that the tears are / thrown / into the raucous baskets where they accumulate, / I want to be, my love, alone with a syllable / of mangled silver, alone with a tip / of your breast of snow. Pablo Neruda /
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PENICHE / PORTUGAL / . / . / . / ...................... POETRY / Pablo Neruda / And it was at that age … Poetry arrived / in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where / it came from, from winter or a river. / I don’t know how or when, / no they were not voices, they were not / words, nor silence, / but from a street I was summoned, / from the branches of night, / abruptly from the others, / among violent fires / or returning alone, / there I was without a face / and it touched me. I did not know what to say, my mouth / had no way / with names, / my eyes were blind, / and something started in my soul, / fever or forgotten wings, / and I made my own way, / deciphering / that fire, / and I wrote the first faint line, / faint, without substance, pure / nonsense, / pure wisdom / of someone who knows nothing, / and suddenly I saw / the heavens / unfastened / and open, / planets, / palpitating plantations, / shadow perforated, / riddled / with arrows, fire and flowers, / the winding night, the universe. And I, infinitesimal being, / drunk with the great starry / void, / likeness, image of / mystery, / felt myself a pure part / of the abyss, / I wheeled with the stars, / my heart broke loose on the wind. Pablo Neruda /
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PENICHE / PORTUGAL / . / . / . / . / . / / Sonnet XXXIV (You are the daughter of the sea) / Pablo Neruda / . / . / / You are the daughter of the sea, oregano’s first cousin. / Swimmer, your body is pure as the water; / cook, your blood is quick as the soil. / Everything you do is full of flowers, rich with the earth. Your eyes go out toward the water, and the waves rise; / your hands go out to the earth and the seeds swell; / you know the deep essence of water and the earth, / conjoined in you like a formula for clay. Naiad: cut your body into turquoise pieces, / they will bloom resurrected in the kitchen. / This is how you become everything that lives. And so at last, you sleep, in the circle of my arms / that push back the shadows so that you can rest— / vegetables, seaweed, herbs: the foam of your dreams. Pablo Neruda Translated by Stephen Tapscott
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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 of the world, / thus I see you, / lovely one. Lovely one, / with a nest of copper entangled / on your head, a nest / the color of dark honey / where my heart burns and rests, / lovely one. Lovely one, / your eyes are too big for your face, / your eyes are too big for the earth...excerpt Lovely One, by Pablo Neruda “Paola” is painted in watercolour on Clayboard, which notwithstanding the manufacturers claims, is even more difficult than watercolour on paper…the great advantage is that paint is easily removed but that also is it’s greatest drawback…still I ihave used it a number of times and plan to do it again / Maryrse / McGill / Flavia / Francesca / Annabel / Sadie / Margaret / The Story in Your Eyes / Catherine Earnshaw / Beatrice / Rafaela / Autumn / Bathsheba / Katharine / Sylvia
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It’s national poetry month and this year marks the / 100th anniversary of one of my favorite poets, / Pablo Neruda. His extraordinary poetry often / focused on the “enigma” of the sea. “Enigma”, a powerful poem is translated by / Robert Bly This is a great month to share our favorite poets / who have had a profound impact on our lives. This photo / was shot in Malibu, California. Please view in the / large format. “You’ve asked me what the lobster is weaving there with / his golden feet? / I reply, the ocean knows this. / You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent / bell? What is it waiting for? / I tell you it is waiting for time, like you. / You ask me whom the Macrocystis alga hugs in its arms? / Study, study it, at a certain hour, in a certain sea I know. / You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhal, / and I reply by describing / how the sea unicorn with the harpoon in it dies. / You enquire about the kingfisher’s feathers, / which tremble in the pure springs of the southern tides? / Or you’ve found in the cards a new question touching on / the crystal architecture / of the sea anemone, and you’ll deal that to me now? / You want to understand the electric nature of the ocean / spines? / The armored stalactite that breaks as it walks? / The hook of the angler fish, the music stretched out / in the deep places like a thread in the water? I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its / jewel boxes / is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure, / and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the / petal / hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light / and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall / from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl. I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead / of human eyes, dead in those darknesses, / of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes / on the timid globe of an orange. I walked around as you do, investigating / the endless star, / and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked, / the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.” Pablo Neruda / Translated by Robert Bly
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.....not even for a day Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because - / because - I don’t know how to say it: a day is long / and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station / when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep. Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because / then the little drops of anguish will all run together, / the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift / into me, choking my lost heart. Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach; / may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance. / Don’t leave me for a second, my dearest, because in that moment you’ll have gone so far / I’ll wander mazily over all the earth, asking, / Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying? by Pablo Neruda
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