I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.....
Pablo NerudaTag: poetry
I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.
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Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
Pablo NerudaMostra la citazione in tedesco
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About me, nothing worse they will tell you, my love, than what I told you
Pablo NerudaOn our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know that poetry is like bread; it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity.
Pablo NerudaTag: what-i-very-much-believe-in
As if you were on fire from within.
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
Tag: love passion beauty inner-beauty
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
How much does a man live, after all?/ Does he live a thousand days, or one only?
For a week, or for several centuries?/ How long does a man spend dying?/ What does it mean to say 'for ever'?
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.
Pablo NerudaTag: hope spring inevitability
To harden the earth
the rocks took charge:
instantly
they grew wings:
the rocks
that soared:
the survivors
flew up
the lightning bolt,
screamed in the night,
a watermark,
a violet sword,
a meteor.
The succulent
sky
had not only clouds,
not only space smelling of oxygen,
but an earthly stone
flashing here and there
changed into a dove,
changed into a bell,
into immensity, into a piercing
wind:
into a phosphorescent arrow,
into salt of the sky.
Tag: poem
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