Every day you play with the light of the universe. Pablo Neruda More Quotes by Pablo Neruda More Quotes From Pablo Neruda Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly. Pablo Neruda butterfly june summer But when I call for a hero, out comes my lazy old self; so I never know who I am, nor how many I am or will be. I'd love to be able to touch a bell and summon the real me, because if I really need myself, I mustn't disappear. Pablo Neruda real self hero Who do I belong to? How come I mortgaged my being till I don't belong to myself? How come I sold my blood? And who now owns my indecisions, my hands, my private pain, my pride? Pablo Neruda pain pride blood Our love was born outside the walls, in the wind, in the night, in the earth, and that's why the clay and the flower, the mud and the roots know your name. Pablo Neruda wall flower night 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. Pablo Neruda hate love-you love I learned about life from life itself, love I learned in a single kiss and could teach no one anything except that I have lived with something in common among men. Pablo Neruda kissing common men Love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss. Pablo Neruda kissing long way Each in the most hidden sack kept the lost jewels of memory, intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses, the fragment of public or private happiness. A few, the wolves, collected thighs, other men loved the dawn scratching mountain ranges or ice floes, locomotives, numbers. For me happiness was to share singing, praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes. I ask forgiveness for my bad ways: my life had no use on earth. Pablo Neruda kissing eye memories Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed. Pablo Neruda stars remember-you writing Then I speak to her in a language she has never heard, I speak to her in Spanish, in the tongue of the long, crepuscular verses of Díaz Casanueva; in that language in which Joaquín Edwards preaches nationalism. My discourse is profound; I speak with eloquence and seduction; my words, more than from me, issue from the warm nights, from the many solitary nights on the Red Sea, and when the tiny dancer puts her arm around my neck, I understand that she understands. Magnificent language! Pablo Neruda issues sea night 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. Pablo Neruda hate love-you moving And here am I, budding among the ruins with only sorrow to bite on, as if weeping were a seed and I the earth's only furrow. Pablo Neruda life-and-death sorrow grieving I don't know who it is who lives or dies, who rests or wakes, but it is your heart that distributes all the graces of the daybreak in my breast. Pablo Neruda breasts grace heart It's hard to tell / if we close our eyes or if night / opens in us other starred eyes, / if it burrows into the wall of our dream / till some other door opens. / But the dream is only the flitting costume of one moment, / is spent in one beat / of the darkness, / and falls at our feet, cast off / as the day stirs and sails away with us. Pablo Neruda wall dream fall What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood? Pablo Neruda touched blood I want to see thirst In the syllables, Tough fire In the sound; Feel through the dark For the scream. Pablo Neruda fire sound dark Once more I am the silent one who came out of the distance wrapped in cold rain and bells: I owe to earth's pure death the will to sprout. Pablo Neruda distance rain winter Love has to be…flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss. Pablo Neruda flowering kissing stars How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running. So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans. Pablo Neruda stars running morning Raw hatred took its time making an outpost of its rage and prepared for me a savage crown with rusty, bloodstained spikes. It wasn't pride that made me keep my heart at a distance from such terror, nor did I waste on revenge or the pursuit of power the forces that came from my selfish griefs or my accumulated joys. It was something else-my helplessness. Pablo Neruda selfish distance revenge
