Is the rose naked,
Or is that her only dress?

You won't believe how beautiful the images these two short lines conjure in my head, intricate rose blooms, luscious, red petals spinning in the dark, red folds of silk, dragging on the floor to the dark chambers of a secret lover.




There are lone cemeteries,
tombs full of soundless bones,
the heart threading a tunnel,
a dark, dark tunnel:
like a wreck we die to the very core,
as if drowning at the heart
or collapsing inside from skin to soul



Now that is just so sad. Quietly, movingly, eerily sad.

Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,



If this is not beautiful, sexy poetry I don't what is.

And of course, my hands-down, all-time favorite, these unbearably romantic lines to his muse and wife:

It was beautiful to live
when you lived!

The world is bluer and of the earth
at night when I sleep
enormous, within your small hands




Now I know how it feels to fell in love with words, with beautiful, beautiful, sexy and romantic words:

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved
In secret, between the shadows and the soul


And to have my heart broken by it:

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her and sometimes she loved me too.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
And this may be the last poem I write for her.



There is nothing like sublime poetry to feed the soul. And there is something in Neruda's art that simply captures and never let goes, something dark, and delicate, and powerful. I'm no poet so I do not know what is this called. I just know it's beautiful and alluring. I think it's mortal love.

Neruda is my favorite poet.

ever since I found sonnet XVII… those were indescribable feelings. I love it way too much.

and to found out it has been translated into my mother tongue this beautifully, oh God hats up for Aan Mansyur

need I say more......

Love Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were a 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 blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

This poetry book is a fortune, the type of book you'd give 10 stars blindly!!

When I looked up the reviews and the rating, then read a sample sonnet online and found it so beautiful, I was so encouraged to start reading it asap.. But, unfortunately, I couldn't find a free pdf copy available online, and I was so disappointed, kept searching and I found them translated by Alan Davison, but the translation wasn't good enough "wouldn't say bad for the exerted effort to translate them".

Although the 1st and the 2nd attempt were unsuccessful, I didn't give up, I got the titles of the 100 sonnet from the book's page on Wikipedia, and I looked for each of them individually, and as long as it went, I was praying it'd be worth it.. it is!! IT DEFINITELY IS :)

I just can't tell how beautiful Neruda's poetry is, touching, sentimental, passionate and whole. I believe it felt like it was written to each woman that read it.
Neruda is a magician, he wrote small lines that takes you places forests, sea shores, skies or just a bed, where everything looks real but feels like a fantasy. Neruda turns plain things into magic, like I'd never see the scattered flour the same way again because of the way he resembled it to stars.

I found some of the sonnets translated by Stephen Tapscott and some were by terence clarke, both were beautiful, but I preferred stephen's ones, he kept the metaphors sophisticated and original yet understandable. Terence went for the direct, easy translation which was good in some lines, as in sonnet 48 "brackets include Terence's lines":

Two happy lovers make one bread,
a single moon drop in the grass.
Walking, they cast two shadows that flow together;
waking, they leave one sun empty in their bed.
(They lead two shadows walking as one,
leave in bed a single empty sun.)

Knowing that I owe this book a lot of great words, I'm just running out of words. I just love it, and it was worth the time, totally :)

I think every woman deserves her own Neruda, to be seen, to be adored, and to be portrayed by the eyes and the heart of Neruda :)



There where the waves shatter on the restless rocks
the clear light bursts and enacts its rose,
and the sea-circle shrinks to a cluster of buds,
to one drop of blue salt, falling.

O bright magnolia bursting in the foam,
magnetic transient whose death blooms
and vanishes--being, nothingness--forever:
broken salt, dazzling lurch of the sea.

You & I, Love, together we ratify the silence,
while the sea destroys its perpetual statues,
collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness:

because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics,
galloping water, incessant sand,
we make the only permanent tenderness.

Okay this is just porn for saphosexuals.

Pablo Neruda lo hizo nuevamente

Αυτό το βιβλίο ήταν η εισαγωγή μου στην ποίηση του Νερούδα. Διαβάζοντας τα ποιήματα του είναι ακατόρθωτο να μην ερωτευτείς τον τρόπο που περιγράφει και εκφράζει την αγάπη του. Δυστυχώς αυτό το βιβλίο διαβάστηκε σε ψηφιακή μορφή αλλά κάποτε θα προστεθεί στη βιβλιοθήκη μου μαζί με όλες τις υπογραμμίσεις και τις σημειώσεις μου.

"Σ'αγαπώ μη γνωρίζοντας πώς, από που και πότε,
σ'αγαπώ στα ίσια δίχως πρόβλημα και περηφάνια -
σ'αγαπώ έτσι γιατί δε ξέρω μ'άλλον τρόπο,
παρά με τούτον όπου δεν είμαι μήτε είσαι,
που το χέρι σου πάνω μου το νιώθω σαν δικό μου,
που όταν κοιμάμαι κλείνουν και τα δικά σου μάτια."

قلبي كان ينبض مع كل كلمة ومقطع.. جميل نيرودا.

“Hangi yollardan geçip de vardın gönlüme?”

“Seviyorum seni belirgin sevgisi gibi karanlık nesnelerin,
gizliden gizliye, gölge ile ruh arasında.”

“Sevmiyorum dememden bileceksin sevdiğimi,
yaşamın iki yüzü olmasından gelir bu,
söz bir kanattır sessizlikten gelen,
soğuk değil midir ateşin bir yarısı…”

“İki hayatlıdır aşkım seni severken.
Bu yüzden sevmediğim zaman da seviyorum seni,
Bu yüzden sevdiğim zaman da seviyorum.”

“Aşk diyorum ya güvercinlerle doluyor dünya.
Baharı getiriyor her hecem benim.”

“Belki de var olmamak sen olmadan var olmaktır”

“Kim, söyleyin kim kaçabilir adımlarından
Sessiz ve kıyıcı koşturan bir yüreğin?”

***Şiir onu yazana değil, ona ihtiyacı olana da ait değil.
Bu şiirlerin hepsi Matilde’ye ait Sayın Neruda.
Yazılana.
Ben ikna oldum bir erkeğin bir kadını bu kadar sevebileceğine.
Ne pahalı hediyeler, ne de gösterişler, bir seviyi anlatmanın en nahif yolu, şiirler.

(Poëzieleesclub)

Te zoet, te kleverig, te melig voor mij.

This is my favorite poet. The poems are beautifull. I recommend this book very highly.

Achei essa edição argentina de 1960 por cinco reais num sebo, o que fatalmente me deixou feliz.
Voltando ao Neruda, o livro é um estouro, passando por quatro fases, cada uma delas instila fases da relação amorosa, seja num aspecto temporal (o tipo de relação que temos no decorrer da vida), seja num aspecto espacial (uma única relação passando pelas intempéries da manhã, meio-dia, tarde e noite). Enfim,é brilhante.