Pablo Neruda

Of the many men whom I am, whom we are,
I cannot settle on a single one
They are lost to me under the cover of
They have departed for another city

Take bread away from me, if you wish,take air away, butdo not take from me your laughter
Do not take away the rose,the lance flower that you pluck,the water that suddenlybursts forth in joy,the sudden waveof silver born in you
My struggl...

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul
I love you as the plant that never bloomsbut...

Littlerose,roselet,at times,tiny and naked,it seemsas though you would fitin one of my hands,as though I’ll clasp you like thisand carry you to my mouth,butsuddenlymy feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:you have grown,your shoulders rise l...

Love, we're going home now,
Where the vines clamber over the trellis:
Even before you, the summer will arrive,
On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom

Now Let's look for birds
The tall iron branches in the forest,
The dense fertility on the ground
The world is wet

Love, a questionhas destroyed you
I have come back to youfrom thorny uncertainty
I want you straight asthe sword or the road
But you insiston keeping a nookof shadow that I do not want

The memory of you emerges from the night around me
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea
Deserted like the wharves at dawn
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one

I have named you queen
There are taller than you, taller
There are purer than you, purer
There are lovelier than you, lovelier

o te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacioo flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma
Te amo como la planta que no florece y llevadentro de sí, escondida, la l...

If suddenly you do not exist,if suddenly you no longer live,
I shall live on
I do not dare,
I do not dare to write it,if you die

And it was at that age… Poetry arrivedin search of me
I don't know,
I don't know whereit came from, from winter or a river
I don't know how or when,no they were not voices, they were notwords, nor silence,but from a street I was sum...