Ode to Ironing by Pablo Neruda

Poetry is white: it comes from the water covered with drops, it wrinkles and piles up, the skin of this planet must be stretched, the sea of its whiteness must be ironed....

Ode to the Cat by Pablo Neruda

The animals were imperfect, long-tailed, unfortunate in their heads. Little by little they put themselves together, making themselves a landscape, acquiring spots, grace, flight. The cat, only the cat appeared complete and proud: he was born completely finished, walking alone and knowing what he wanted...

Unity by Pablo Neruda

There is something dense, united, settled in the depths, repeating its number, its identical sign. How it is noted that stones have touched time, in their refined matter there is an odor of age, of water brought by the sea, from salt and sleep...

Ode to Hope by Pablo Neruda

Oceanic dawn at the centre of my life, waves like grapes, the sky's solitude,...

Ode to Age by Pablo Neruda

I don't believe in age. All old people carry in their eyes....

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, From waiting to not waiting for you...

A Dog Has Died by Pablo Neruda

Neruda was a poet-diplomat and politician who became known as a poet at aged 13. He wrote in various styles including surrealist, and historical political...

Your Laughter by Pablo Neruda

Poet: Pablo Neruda Born: 12 July 1904, Parral, Chile Chilean Died: 23 September 1973, Santiago, Chile

Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

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 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 …

Love Sonnet XXVII by Pablo Neruda

Naked you are simple as one of your hands; Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round. You've moon-lines, apple pathways Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat. Naked you are blue as a night in Cuba; You've vines and stars in your hair. Naked you are spacious and yellow As summer in a golden …

Poem Of The Week: If You Forget Me

I want you to know one thing. 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 …