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"I can write the saddest verses tonight, I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too", this fragment corresponds to one of the most memorable works, written by the poet and winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, Pablo Neruda, 20 poems of love and a desperate song. [19659002]
Characterized as a man of communist belief, Neruda left a hundred poetic works, where he captured his hectic days and travelers 114 years after his birth, Neruda remains a living legend, in each of his verses.
In 1904, the land of Chile sees born Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto, who will later adopt the pseudonym of Pablo Neruda, the poet has always felt rooted in Chile, though he led an inexhaustible traveler's life
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His mother, Rosa Basoalto, died of tuberculosis shortly time after childbirth, and his father, a driver of a train carrying the stone, José del Carmen Reyes Morales, married two years later with Trinidad Cambia Marverde, whose Neruda J would write: "She was a sweet and diligent woman, had a sense of l & # 39; peasant humor and an active and indefatigable kindness. "
His first steps in the world of letters
It was July 18, 1917, when he was able to read with emotion in a local newspaper, La Mañana, the first of his published articles, which he titled "Entusiasmo y perseverancia". He had then had the chance to meet an imposing, "tall, with very long dresses", which was none other than the famous poet Gabriela Mistral.
Under the pseudonym Neruda, it is like the poet receives the prize of the Spring Festival of Temuco, using this name to deceive his father, who vehemently opposed to the pursuit of this profession. The chosen name, Neruda, had been found by chance in a magazine and was of Czech origin
Here you can read 5 poems by Pablo Neruda.
Sexual Water [19659002] Rolling with simple drops,
with drops like teeth,
with big drops of jam and blood,
rolling with drops,
the waterfalls,
as a driped sword,
as a torn glass river,
falls mordant,
striking the axis of symmetry, striking on the seams of the soul
breaking abandoned things, wetting darkness.
it's a breath, wetter than crying,
a liquid, a sweat, an unnamed oil,
a sudden movement,
becoming, thickening,
falls of water,
slow dripping,
towards its sea, towards its dry ocean,
towards its wave without water.
I see it's been long, and a rattle coming out of a barn,
cellars, cicadas,
people, stimuli,
rooms, girls
sleeping with them hands in heart,
dreaming of bandits, with fires,
I see boats,
I see marrow trees
bristling like mad cats,
I see blood, daggers and stockings for women,
and human hair,
I see beds, I see runners crying
I see hidden dreams,
I admit the last days,
and also the origins, and also the memories,
as an eyelid atrociously raised by force
I look …
And then there is this noise:
a sound of red bone,
a stick of flesh,
and yellow legs as spikes that meet.
I hear between kicks,
listening, shook between breaths and sobs.
I look, I hear,
with the half of the soul in the sea and half of the soul
on earth,
and with both half of the soul I look at the world
and even if I close my eyes and fully cover my heart,
It's like a hurricane of gelatin,
like a jellyfish cataract and sperm
I see a cloudy rainbow.
Now it's Cuba
And then there was the blood and the ash
Then the palm trees were left alone
Cuba, my love, they t & # 39; tied the foal,
they cut off your face,
they cut off your legs in pale gold,
they broke your grenadier,
they pierced you with knives,
they divided you, they burned you. 19659002] Through gentle valleys
the exterminators came down,
and in the high mogotes the top
of your children was lost in the fog,
but they were struck there
one to one until their death,
shredded in torment
without their hot earth of flowers
running away under their plants.
Cuba, my love, what a thrill
the foam frothed,
until you became pure,
loneliness, silence, thicket,
and the bones of your children
the disputed crabs.
Love
Woman, I would have been your son, for drinking
breast milk as a spring,
to look at you and feel you by my side and To Have
In Golden Laughter And Crystal Voice
To Feel In My Veins Like God In The Rivers
And To Adore You In The Sad Bones Of Dust And Lime,
because your being passed without pain next to me
and left in the stanza – pure of all evil –
How would I know how to love, woman, how would I know
t & Love, love like no one has ever known!
Die and again
]
And again
I love you more
and more.
Angela Adonica
Today I lie beside a pure girl
as to the shore of a white ocean,
as in the center of a fire star
of slow space
From his long green gaze
the light fell like dry water,
in transparent circles and deep
of fresh force
His chest as a fire of two flames
burned in two high regions,
and in the double river reached his feet,
tall and clear.
The golden climate just ripens
the day lengths of its body
filling it with extended fruit
and hidden fire.
Quarter Without Light
Does Poetry Disappear? things
or can not condense my life?
Yesterday-watching the last dusk-
I was a moss patch among ruins. [196590] 02] The cities -holms and venges-,
the dirty gray of the suburbs,
the office that hides the shoulders,
the head of the shady eyes.
Blood of color on the hills,
blood in the streets and squares,
pain of broken hearts,
could be boredom and tears
A river embraces the suburbs
as a tempting icy hand in the dark:
on its waters were ashamed
to see the stars.
And the houses that hide the desires
behind the bright windows,
while out the wind
carries a little mud to each rose
Faraway … the haze of 39 forgetting
– thick fumes, broken dams –
and field, green field !, in which panting
oxen and sweaty men
And here I am, sprouting among ruins,
only biting all the sorrows,
as if the crying was an illa
and I the only furrow of the earth
20
P UEDO write the most worms sad tonight
Write, for example: "The night is starry,
and they shiver, blue, the stars, in the distance."
The wind of the night turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest verses tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too
Nights like this I held her in my arms
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky
She loved me, sometimes I I loved her too.
How not to have loved his big fixed eyes
I can write the saddest verses tonight.
To think that I do not have it. To feel that I lost it.
To hear the huge, immense night without it.
And the verse falls to the soul as to grass dew
It does not matter that my love can not keep it.
The night is starry and it's not with me.
That's all. In the distance someone sings. In the distance.
My soul is not content to have lost it.
As if to bring it closer, my eyes search for it.
My heart is looking for him, and it is not with me.
The same night he launches the same
trees.
We, those of then, are not the same anymore.
I like it, that 's true, but how much I loved it.
My voice was searching for the wind to touch his ear.
From another. It will be someone else. Like before my kisses.
His voice, his clear body. His infinite eyes
I do not like it anymore, it's true, but maybe I love it
Love is so short, and forgetting is so long
Because the nights like that I have had it among my
arms,
my soul is not content to have lost it.
Although this is the last pain she causes me,
and these are the last verses that I write to you.
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