Quotes by Pablo Neruda

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all dayI hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

And I, infinitesima­l being,drunk with the great starryvoid,likeness, image ofmystery,I felt myself a pure partof the abyss,I wheeled with the stars,my heart broke loose on the wind.

I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Then love knew it was called love.And when I lifted my eyes to your name,suddenly your heart showed me my way

In this part of the story I am the one whodies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.

I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all dayI hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.I hunger for your sleek laugh,your hands the color of a savage harvest,hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,hunting for you, for your hot heart,Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Tonight I can write the saddest linesI loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

As if you were on fire from within.The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

I wantTo do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Well, nowIf little by little you stop loving meI shall stop loving youLittle by littleIf suddenly you forget meDo not look for meFor I shall already have forgotten youIf you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my lifeAnd you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have rootsRememberThat on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my armsAnd my roots will set off to seek another land

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as one loves certain dark things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

How much does a man live, after all?

All the birds of the world were free and looked upon you as a friend.

When love is wrapped around your heart, it never leaves.

The most beautiful thing you can do is to be a mirror of love.

The past is always tense, the future perfect.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.

All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are.

The days aren't enough for my love.

When you go in silence, you come through the stars and life begins.

Love! Love until the night collapses!

Perhaps this is the moment for which you were created.

I am hungry for your mouth, your voice, your hair.

In what language does rain fall over tormented cities?

With which stars do they go on speaking, the rivers that never reach the sea?

The nights of the city do not heal us. The nights of the city are like revolvers shooting at each other.

A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who does not play has lost forever the child who lived in him.

And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.

From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.

Oh, the places I could go if I had the wings of a hummingbird!

Give me silence, water, hope. Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.

My feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall go on living.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride.

The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.

Love is not about property, diamonds and gifts. It is about sharing your very self with the world around you.

Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness, and the infinite tenderness shattered you like a jar.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

The birds of night peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you.

I have slept with you all night long while the dark earth spins with the living and the dead.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.

You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank.

So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me.

But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived in search of me.

Only do not forget, if I wake up crying it's only because in my dream I'm a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands.

I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you.

We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, and lay like fish under the net of our kisses.

In you the rivers sing and my soul flees in them as you desire, and you send it where you will.

Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.

If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life.

We the mortals touch the metals, the wind, the ocean shores, the stones, knowing they will go on, inert or burning.

Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter.

I am not jealous of what came before me. Come with a man on your shoulders, come with a hundred men in your hair.

Laughter is the language of the soul.

And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.

Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us.

In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you.

The books that help you most are those which make you think the most.

My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.

I want to see thirst in the syllables, touch fire in the sound; feel through the dark for the scream.

To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body.

You are like nobody since I love you.

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

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.

In your light, I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

The morning wind spreads its fresh smell. We must get up and take that in, that wind that lets us live.

Yêu, chính là niềm vui của sự tự do, sự an tâm của sự đoàn kết, sự phấn chấn của sự cởi mở.