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1 " 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 "
― Pablo Neruda , Selected Poems
2 " Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,you look like a world, lying in surrender.My rough peasant's body digs in youand makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.I was lone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,and nigh swamped me with its crushing invasion.To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad!Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flowsand weariness follows, and the infinite ache. "
3 " If 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 "
4 " I learned about lifefrom life itself,love I learned in a single kissand could teach no one anythingexcept that I have livedwith something in common among men,when fighting with them,when saying all their say in my song.Pablo Neruda- "Ode to the Book, "
5 " PoetryAnd it was at that age... Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when, no, they were not voices, they were notwords, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among violent fires or returning alone, there I was without a face and it touched me. I did not know what to say, my mouthhad no way with names my eyes were blind, and something started in my soul, fever or forgotten wings, and I made my own way, deciphering that fire and I wrote the first faint line,faint, without substance, purenonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing, and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened and open, planets, palpitating planations, shadow perforated, riddled with arrows, fire and flowers, the winding night, the universe. And I, infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke free on the open sky. "
6 " Nobody can claim the name of Pedro,nobody is Rosa or María,all of us are dust or sand,all of us are rain under rain.They have spoken to me of Venezuelas,of Chiles and Paraguays;I have no idea what they are saying.I know only the skin of the earthand I know it has no name. "
7 " Es la hora, amor mío, de apartar esta rosa sombría, cerrar las estrellas, enterrar la ceniza en la tierra: y en la insurrección de la luz, despertar con los que despertaron o seguir en el sueño alcanzando la otra orilla del mar que no tiene otra orilla. "
8 " Sonnet XIIFull woman, fleshly apple, hot moon,thick smell of seaweed, crushed mud and light,what obscure brilliance opens between your columns?What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?Loving is a journey with water and with stars,with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour:loving is a clash of lightning-boltsand two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.Kiss by kiss I move across your small infinity,your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages,and the genital fire transformed into delightruns through the narrow pathways of the blooduntil it plunges down, like a dark carnation,until it is and is no more than a flash in the night. "
9 " 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'? "