39 Reviews
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 Lolaone rated 10 months agopoetry - From the page: "Pablo Neruda
Miguel Hernández Paul Eluard
Twenty Poems Twenty-Four Poems
Sixty Poems in Translation
Contents
â€One time more, my love, the net of light extinguishes†3
The Wide Ocean. 4
â€Unclothed, you are true, like one of your hands†6
Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks. 7
â€The light that climbs from your feet to your hair,â€"
- xineann rated 11 months agopoetry, neruda
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`Misfortunes of the month of January'
XLI From: `Cien sonetos de amor'
Misfortunes of the month of January when indifferent
noon establishes its equation in the sky,
a solid gold like wine in an overflowing glass
fills the earth to its blue limits.
Misfortunes of this time, appearing like tiny grapes
that bunch together in green bitterness,
confused, secret tears of the days,
until the elements divulge their clusters.
Yes, seeds, grief, everything that pulses
terrified, in the crackling light of January,
will ripen, ferment, as the fruit ferments.
The sorrows will be divided: the soul
give a gasp of air, and the dwelling-place
will be left clean, with fresh-made bread on the table.
~Pablo Neruda
- Redunkulous rated 11 months agopoetry
- Neruda! So moving and so sexy.
- hellohope rated 12 months agopoetry
- From the page: "I can write the saddest lines tonightâ€
XX From: Veinte poemas de amorâ
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
Write for example: The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance
The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don't have her, to feel I have lost her.
Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.
What does it matter that I couldnâ€t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.
That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.
As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me
The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.
I donâ€t love her, thatâ€s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.
Anotherâ€s kisses on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.
I donâ€t love her, thatâ€s certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.
Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.
Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her."
- whisper-of-muse rated 12 months agopoetry
- One of the best poems of Neruda, affected me sharply when I read it first few years ago. How can a man be so intense to a woman's world and criticizes an unnaturalistic world? The answer. Like this, as much as this... Just Excellent!
Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.
Pablo Neruda
- youred0p3 rated 13 months agopoetry
- i can't get over these.
reading them makes me space out.
 strangeideas rated 13 months ago- I think the poems must have lost something in translation.
- harleylenore rated 13 months agopoetry
- Full of awesome.
- Michaela73 rated 13 months agopoetry
- Pablo Neruda is my favorite poet. He took his name from Czech poet Jan Neruda, because he believed they had a lot in common.
I can write the saddest lines tonight
XX From: Veinte poemas de amor
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
Write for example: The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance
The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I dont have her, to feel I have lost her.
Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.
What does it matter that I couldnt keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.
That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.
As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me
The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.
I dont love her, thats certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.
Anothers kisses on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.
I dont love her, thats certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.
Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.
Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her.
- OrangeAppled rated 13 months agopoetry
- Love it!
From the page:
"Tie your heart at night to mine, love,
and both will defeat the darkness"
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