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Pablo Neruda

Even in memory, I am terrified by those solitudes! When foul weather is unleashed in that part of the world, the rain seems kin to the devil; the waters of the river and the sea and sky couple, bellowing. A forsaken land where even letters arrive wilted, withered by distances, where hearts petrify and are… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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Chilean Culture · Chilean Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Pablo Neruda

Lovely one, your eyes are too big for your face, your eyes are too big for the earth. There are countries, there are rivers, in your eyes, my country is your eyes, I walk through them, they light the world through which I walk, lovely one. — Pablo Neruda, from “Lovely One,” The Captain’s Verses:… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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Chilean Culture · Chilean Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Pablo Neruda

Forgive me if my eyes see no more clearly than sea foam, please forgive that my form grows outward without license and never stops: monotonous is my song, my word is a shadow bird, fauna of stone and sea, the grief of a winter planet, Incorruptible. Forgive me this sequence of water, of rock, of… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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Chilean Culture · Chilean Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Spanish Literature

Pablo Neruda

Here I came to the very edge where nothing at all needs saying, everything is absorbed through weather and the sea, and the moon swam back, its rays all silvered, and time and again the darkness would be broken by the crash of a wave, and every day on the balcony of the sea, wings… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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Anthology · Chilean Culture · Chilean Literature · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Contemporary · Poetry · Spanish Literature

Pablo Neruda

There’s No Forgetting Ask me where I have been and I’ll tell you: “Things keep on happening.” I must talk of the rubble that darkens the stones; of the river’s duration, destroying itself; I know only the things that the birds have abandoned, or the ocean behind me, or my sorrowing sister. Why the distinctions… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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