Tag: pablo neruda


Featured Poem: Horses

By Pablo Neruda From the window I saw the horses. I was in Berlin, in winter. The light had no light, the sky had no heaven. The air was white like wet bread. And from my window a vacant arena, bitten by the teeth of winter. Suddenly driven out by a man, ten horses surged through the mist. Like waves of fire, they flared … Read More Featured Poem: Horses


Featured Poem: From the Book of Questions

By Pablo Neruda And why is the sun such a bad companion to the traveler in the desert? And why is the sun so congenial in the hospital garden? Are they birds or fish in these nets of moonlight? Was it where they lost me that I finally found myself?

Featured Poem: My Name was Reyes

By Pablo Neruda My name was Reyes, Catrileo, Arellano, Rodriguez, I have forgotten my true names. I was born with a surname of old oaks, of saplings, of hissing wood. I was deposited among rotting leaves: this newborn sank down in the defeat and in the birth of forests that were falling and poor houses that had recently been weeping. I was not born … Read More Featured Poem: My Name was Reyes

Featured Poem: Never an Illness, Nor an Absence

By Pablo Neruda Never an illness, nor an absence of grandeur, no, nothing is able to kill the best in us, that kindness, dear sir, we are afflicted with: beautiful is the flower of man, his conduct, and every door opens on the beautiful truth and never hides treacherous whispers. I always gained something from making myself better, better than I am, better than … Read More Featured Poem: Never an Illness, Nor an Absence

Featured Poem: Why Search in Vain

By Pablo Neruda Why search in vain in every door in which we will not exist because we have not arrived yet? That is how I found out that I was exactly like you and like everybody.

Featured Poem: We Are Waiting

We Are Waiting by Pablo Neruda There are days that haven’t arrived yet, that are being made like bread or chairs or a product from the pharmacies or the woodshops: there are factories of days to come: they exist, craftsmen of the soul who raise and weigh and prepare certain bitter or beautiful days that arrive suddenly at the door to reward us with … Read More Featured Poem: We Are Waiting

Featured Poem: One Returns to the Self as if to an Old House

By Pablo Neruda One returns to the self as if to an old house with nails and slots, so that a person tired of himself as of a suit full of holes, tries to walk naked in the rain, wants to drench himself in pure water, in elemental wind, and he cannot but return to the well of himself, to the least worry over … Read More Featured Poem: One Returns to the Self as if to an Old House

Featured Poem: It Rains

By Pablo Neruda It rains over the sand, over the roof the theme of the rain: the long ls of rain fall slowly over the pages of my everlasting love, this salt of every day: rain, return to your old nest, return with your needles to the past: today I long for the whitest space, winter’s whiteness for a branch of green rosebush and … Read More Featured Poem: It Rains

Featured Poem: After Sunrise

By Pablo Neruda After sunrise how many things are needed to sustain this day? Lethal lights, golden rays crossing the land, centrifugal glowworms, drops of moon, blisters, axiom, all material superimposed upon time’s passage: sadnesses, existences, rights and responsibilities: nothing is equal while the day eats away at its clear light and grows and then loses its power. Hour after hour one spoonful of … Read More Featured Poem: After Sunrise

Featured Poem: When I Decided to Clarify My Life

By Pablo Neruda When I decided to clarify my life and, hand by hand, to seek out misfortune by throwing the dice, I met the woman who accompanies me everywhere and at all hours, in clouds and in silence. Matilde is the one who answers to this name from Chillan and even if it rains or thunders or rises, the day with blue hair … Read More Featured Poem: When I Decided to Clarify My Life

Featured Poem: Here

Here by Pablo Neruda I came here to count the bells that live upon the surface of the sea, that sounds over the sea, within the sea. So, here I live.

Featured Poem: If Each Day Falls

By Pablo Neruda If each day falls inside each night, there exists a well where clarity is imprisoned. We need to sit on the rim of the well of darkness and fish for fallen light with patience.