Love poems by Pablo Neruda 2

 

Love poems by Pablo Neruda 2

 

 

Twenty love poems and a desperate song is one of the most famous works of the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda (1904-1973). Published in June 1924, the collection of poems launched its author to fame at just 19 years of age, and is one of the most renowned literary works of the 20th century in the Spanish language. The book belongs to the poet's youth, since it was written and published when he was not yet twenty years old. The origin of him is usually explained as a conscious evolution of his poetics that tries to break out of the molds of modernism that dominated his first compositions and that of his first book, "Crepusculario". The work is composed of twenty love-themed poems, and a final poem entitled "The desperate song." Except for the latter, the poems have no title. Although the collection of poems is based on real love experiences of the young Neruda, it is a love book that is not addressed to a single lover. The poet has mixed in his verses the physical characteristics of several real women from his early youth to create an image of the unreal beloved that does not correspond to any of them in particular, but rather represents a purely poetic idea of ​​her love object.

11. Almost out of heaven

Whirling, wandering night, the digger of eyes. Let's see how many stars shattered in the pond. Make a mourning cross between my eyebrows, run away. Forge of blue metals, nights of silent struggles, my heart is spinning like a crazy steering wheel. Girl come from so far, brought from so far, sometimes his gaze gleams under the sky. Complaint, tempest, whirlwind of fury, cross over my heart, without stopping you. The wind of the tombs carries, destroys, scatters your sleepy root. Uproot the big trees at the other side of her. But you, clear girl, smoke question, spike. The one was forming the wind with illuminated leaves. Behind the Night Mountains, white fire lily, there I can say nothing! It was made of everything. Anxiety that you split my chest with knives; it's time to go another way, where she doesn't smile

Tempest that buried the bells, murky stir of storms why touch her now, why sadden her. Ay follow the path that gets away from everything, where anguish, death, winter are not stopping, with his eyes wide open in the dew.

12. Enough for my heart

Your chest is enough for my heart, for your freedom my wings are enough. From my mouth it will reach the sky what was asleep on your soul. It is in you the illusion of each day. You come like dew to the corollas. You undermine the horizon with your absence. Eternally on the run like a wave. I said you sang in the wind like pines and like masts. Like them you are tall and taciturn. And you suddenly get sad like a journey. Welcoming as an old road. You are full of echoes and nostalgic voices. I woke up and sometimes they migrate and flee birds that slept in your soul.. I have been marking

13. I have been marking with crosses of fire

Have been marking with crosses of fire the white atlas of your body. My mouth was a spider that crossed hiding. In you, behind you, fearful, thirsty. Stories to tell you on the shore of twilight, sad and sweet doll, so that you would not be sad. A swan, a tree, something far away and happy. The time of the grapes, the ripe and fruity time. I who lived in a port from where I loved you. The loneliness crossed by sleep and silence. Cornered between the sea and sadness. Quiet, delirious, between two motionless gondoliers. Between the lips and the voice, something is dying. Something with bird wings, some anguish and oblivion. As the networks do not hold water. My wrist, there are hardly any drops left trembling. However, something sings between these fleeting words. Something sings, something rises to my hungry mouth. Oh, being able to celebrate with all words of joy. Sing, burn, and flee, like a steeple in the hands of a madman. My sad tenderness, what are you doing suddenly? When I have reached the most daring and coldest vertex, my heart closes like a night flower.

14. You play every day with the light of the universe

You play every day with the light of the universe. Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and in the water. You are more than this white head that I squeeze like a bunch between my hands every day. You look like no one since I love you. Let me stretch you out among yellow garlands. Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the southern stars? Ah, let me remind you of how you were then when you did not exist yet. Suddenly the wind howls and hits my closed window. The sky is a network of shadowy fish curd. Here come all the winds, everyone. The rain undresses. The birds flee by. Wind. Wind. I can only fight against the strength of men. The storm swirls dark leaves and release all the boats that last night tied to the sky. You are here. Ah, you do not run away you will answer me until the last cry. Cling to me as though you were frightened. However, once a strange shadow ran across your eyes. Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle, and you even have perfumed breasts. While the sad wind gallops killing butterflies I love you, and my joy bites your plum mouth. How much it will have hurt to get used to me to my lonely and wild soul, to my name that everyone drives away. We have seen the star burn so many times kissing our eyes and over our heads twilights twist into whirling fans. My words rained over you, stroking you. I have long loved your sunny mother-of-pearl body. I even believe that you are the owner of the Universe. I will bring you joyful flowers from the mountains, copihues, dark hazelnuts, and wild baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees.

15. I like you when you shut up because you are like absent

I like you when you shut up because you are absent, you hear me from afar, and my voice does not touch you. It seems that your eyes have flown and it seems that a kiss closes your mouth. As all things are filled with my soul, you emerge from things, full of my soul. Dream butterfly, you look like my soul, and you look like the word melancholy; I like you when you are quiet and you are distant. And you're like complaining, lullaby butterfly. And you hear me from afar, and my voice does not reach you: Allow me to hush myself with your silence. Let me also speak to you with your silence clear as a lamp, simple as a ring. You are like the night, silent and constellated. Your silence is from the stars, so far and simple. I like you when you are silent because you are absent. Distant and painful as if you had died. A word then, a smile is enough. And I'm glad, glad it's not true

16. In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud

In my sky at twilight, you are like a cloud and your color and shape are how I want them you are mine, you are mine, sweet-lipped woman and my infinite dreams live in your life. The lamp of my soul makes your feet blush, the sour wine of mine is sweeter on your lips: oh reaper of my evening song, How my lonely dreams feel you are mine! You are mine, you are mine, I go screaming in the breeze in the afternoon, and the wind carries my widowed voice. Hunter from the bottom of my eyes, your robbery your night gaze stagnates like water. In the web of my music you are imprisoned, my love, and my music nets are wide as the sky. My soul is born at the edge of your mourning eyes. In your mourning eyes, the country of dreams begins.

17. Thinking

Thinking, tangling shadows in the deep solitude. You are far too, ah even farther than anybody is. Thinking, releasing birds, fading images, burying lamps. Bell tower of mist, how far up there! Choking laments, grinding bleak hopes, taciturn miller, the night falls on your face, far from the city. Your presence is alien, strange to me as a thing. I think, walk long, my life before you. My life before anyone else, my rough life. The cry in front of the sea, between the stones, running free, crazy, in the mist of the sea. The sad fury, the cry, the loneliness of the sea. Unstoppable, violent, stretched to the sky. You, woman, what were you there, what a line, what a rod of that immense fan? You were far away like now. Fire in the forest! Burns in blue crosses. Burn, burn, flame up, sparkle in trees of light. It collapses, it crackles. Fire. Fire. And my soul dances, seared with curls of fire. Who calls? What silence populated with echoes? Time for nostalgia, time for joy, time for solitude. My time among all! Horn in which the wind passes singing. So much passion of crying tied to my body.

18. I love you here.

I love you here. In the dark pines, the wind disentangles itself. The moon burns over the wandering waters. They go the same days chasing each other. Fog unfurls in dancing figures. A silver gull slips down from the sunset. Sometimes a candle. High, high stars. Or the black cross of a ship. Only. Sometimes up early and even my soul is wet. The distant sea resounds. This is a port. I love you here. Here I love you and in vain hides the horizon from you. I love you still amidst these cold things. Sometimes my kisses go on those serious boats, which run through the sea where they do not reach. I already look forgotten like these old anchors. The docks are sadder when the afternoon docks. My uselessly hungry life is fatigued. I love what I do not have. You are so distant. My boredom struggles with the slow twilights. But the night comes and begins to sing to me. The moon turns its clockwork dream. They look at me with your eyes the biggest stars. And how I love you, the pines in the wind, they want to sing your name with their wire sheets.

 

19. Agile brunette girl

 

Dark and agile girl, the sun that makes the fruits, the one that curdles the wheat, the one that twists the algae, made your body happy, your luminous eyes and your mouth that has the smile of water. An anxious black sun wraps itself around your threads of the black mane, when you stretch your arms. You play with the sun as with a stream and he leaves two dark pools in your eyes. Dark and agile girl, nothing brings me closer to you. Everything about you takes me away, like noon. You are the delirious youth of the bee, the intoxication of the wave, the force of the spike. My gloomy heart seeks you, however, and I love your cheerful body, your loose and thin voice. Sweet and definitive brunette butterfly, like the wheat field and the sun, the poppy and the water.

20. I can write the saddest verses tonight

I can write the saddest verses tonight. Write, for example: "The night is starry, and the blue stars shiver in the distance”. The night wind turns in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest verses tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I also loved her. How could he not have loved her big staring eyes. I can write the saddest verses tonight. To think that I do not have her. Feeling I have lost her. Hear the inmense night, even more without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to grass. Does it matter that my love could not keep it. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That is all. In the distance, someone sings. In the distance. My soul is not content with having lost it. As if to bring her closer, my gaze seeks her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me. The same night that she makes the same trees white. We, the ones then, are not the same. I don't love her anymore, it's true, but how much I loved her. My voice sought the wind to touch her ear. Of other. Will be from another. As before my kisses. Her voice, her body clear from her. The infinite eyes of her. I do not love her anymore, it is true, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, and oblivion is so long. Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is not content with having lost it. Although this is the last pain that she causes me, and these are the last verses that I write.

 

 

With affection,

Ruben.