Yes, Pablo Neruda loves to fight and this is also on his tongue. But he expresses this best with his powerful poems. Originally from Chile, Neruda derives his fondness for people and labor, perhaps because his father was a laborer.
Since he was little, he learned to defend his right and fight because he grew up in the working class. Due to being a diplomat, he had the opportunity to get to know many countries and people. He managed to fit many countries in his 69-year life, his love for Matilda, which he also mentioned with his poems, and valuable prizes such as the Nobel Prize for Literature he won in 1971. Here are the poems that Pablo Neruda tells about love, love, people and longing for you!
Pablo Neruda poems:
- I Can Write The Saddest Poem Tonight
- I Love Your Silence
- Sonnet to Matilde
- One Hundred Love Sonnets VIII
- Looking for Silence
- A Desperate Song
- From Autumn Flowers to Nazım Wreath
Perhaps the last poem he wrote to her: I Can Write The Saddest Poem Tonight
I can write the saddest poem tonight
I can say: the night is full of stars
And the stars flicker in the deep blue distance
Singing the night wind in the sky.
I can write the saddest poem tonight
I loved him and he loved me for a while.
I took it in my arms how many nights like tonight
How many times have I kissed him under the endless sky
He loved me and I loved him for a while
Wouldn’t those still, big eyes be loved?
I can write the saddest poem tonight.
Thinking about your absence and burning your loss
Hearing the night, the vaster night without it.
Like dew falling on grass, poetry by falling brings soul
What if my love couldn’t hold it.
In the night star, he is not a comrade to me
That’s all. Someone sings in the distance.
My heart can’t bear to lose it easily
My eyes search for it, as if trying to bring it closer
My heart searches for him, he is not a comrade to me
I don’t love anymore, how, how I loved
My voice calls the wind to reach it
It is good for hands. like before I kissed you.
That voice, with radiant skin and endless eyes
I don’t like it anymore, maybe I like it again
How long is forgetting, oh how short is love
On nights like this I took it in my arms because
My heart can’t bear to lose it easily
Maybe this is the last pain he gave me
Maybe this is the last poem I wrote for him
Open call to the woman he fell in love with: Let Me Hear Me
Sometimes my words thin me so that you can hear
Like the tracks of seagulls on the beaches.
Choker, ecstatic rattle
For your sweet hands like grapes.
And I see my words far away, I look.
They are yours, not mine.
They climb like old pity vines.
They climb so damp walls.
You own this bloody game.
Here they are fleeing from my dark den.
You are full of all, all is full of you.
Before you they wrapped the desolation where you settled
And they got used to my sadness, not you.
I want them to say what I mean to you now
So that you can hear them as you hear me.
A wind of depression drags my words.
Dream hurricanes are knocking down every now and then.
You hear other voices in my painful voice.
Lament from old mouths, blood from old tortures.
Love me friend. Do not leave me. Watch me.
Watch me, friend, in this wave of anxiety.
But my words take on the color of your love.
You wrap it, you fill it all.
I make an endless necklace of them
For your sweet, white hands like grapes.
Missing can only be explained so clearly: I Love Your Silence
I love your silence, as if you
is here as if it didn’t exist
you can hear me from afar, my voice will not touch you.
Your eyes seem to have flown away
and your mouth is sealed with a kiss.
I love your silence, far away
you look
It’s like you’re in mourning, flirting like doves
butterfly-like.
You hear me from far away, my voice does not reach you.
Let me reach your stillness in your silence.
And let me speak with your silence
bright like a lamp, plain like a ring.
You are like the night, with your silence and constellations
Your silence is like that of the stars, so distant, without prejudice.
I love your silence, as if you are not here
far away and full of sadness, as if you were dead.
That’s when one word is enough
I fly, I fly, that you live with the joy.
On the woman to whom Pablo Neruda dedicates ‘One Hundred Love Sonnets’: Sonnet to Matilde
You’ll see that I love you when I don’t
because life confronts you with its two faces.
A word becomes the wing of silence, you see,
fire also takes its share from cold.
I love you to start loving you
will make my love for you eternal
to start a journey over:
that’s why I don’t love you for now.
Happiness as if it’s in your hands
and the keys to an uncertain future full of sadness
I both love and dislike you.
My love has two souls to love you.
That’s why I love you when I don’t
and that’s why I love you while you love.
Proof of how well Neruda loved: Sonnets of One Hundred Love VIII
If your eyes didn’t have the color of the moon
and mud days, work and fire,
and the flexibility of the air you can’t catch,
a week long if you weren’t amber,
and rising amongst the tubular flowers of autumn
if you weren’t in that yellow moment
and struggling among the flour in the sky
If you were not the bread made by the moon in its shine,
I wouldn’t have loved you then, O my very beloved!
In your arms I embrace all that I have,
sand, time, tree of rain,
and all things live so that I may live:
I see everything without distance:
I sense everything living in your life.
Love, autumn, winter, summer and the eyes of the woman he loves: I’m Searching for Silence
Now they can relax
Now they can get used to being without self.
I’m closing my eyes.
I only want five things
five selected roots.
One is eternal love.
Fall to see the other.
I can’t live flying
without leaves falling to the ground.
Third, heavy winter,
the rain I love, its caress
in the rough cold of your fever.
Fourth, write
round like a watermelon.
And fifth, your eyes.
My Matildem, my beloved,
I don’t want to sleep without your eyes
I don’t want to live if you don’t look at me:
I set the spring for you
to follow me with your eyes.
These are my friends, all I want.
Close to nothing, close to everything.
They can go now if they want.
I’ve been through so much that one day
they will forget me involuntarily,
from the blackboard by deleting:
my heart was inexhaustible.
But because I’m looking for silence
do not think that I will die:
the reverse is true of this:
I will live.
I will exist and continue.
I can’t live though
If it doesn’t gush out, the crops in me,
sprouts first, piercing the soil,
to reach the light,
but it is dark mother earth:
dark is my depths:
I am like a well in water
of the night that leaves the stars behind
and wandering alone in the countryside.
Since I’ve lived so long
I want so much to live.
My voice has never been so clear,
my kisses are so rich.
It’s early as usual now.
A bee swarm light.
Leave me with the day
I ask permission to be born.
His fight with his people and his love: A Desperate Song
Your dream comes out of the night that surrounded me.
The river stirs his stubborn grumble into the sea.
Abandoned, like the docks at sunset.
This is the hour of separation, O abandoned!
Cold petals are pouring into my heart.
O abyss of debris, the wild cave of those who have had an accident.
Battles and flights are gathered in you.
The wings of songbirds rise from you.
You swallowed everything like a distance.
Everything sank in you like the sea, like time!
It was the happy hour of attack and kissing.
That watch of ecstasy that shines like a lighthouse.
Fear of flight, blind diver anger,
your turbulent ecstasy of love, everything sank in you!
Winged, wounded my soul in the childhood of the haze.
Lost discovery, everything sank in you!
You wrapped the pain, you hold on to the desire,
you were ecstatic with sadness, everything sank in you!
I pushed back the shadow wall,
I walked and went beyond desire and action.
Ah, skin, my skin, the woman I loved and lost,
I call you at the age of mourning, I dedicate my song to you.
You took in endless tenderness like a bell jar
and eternal oblivion has shattered you.
There was the black solitude of the islands,
there woman of love, your arms embraced me.
There was thirst and hunger, you were the fruit.
There was pain and ruin, you were a miracle.
Oh woman, I don’t know how you melted me
in the soil of my soul, in your arms!
How terrible and short was my passion for you!
Neither demanding nor ecstatic, nor nervous and hungry.
Kisses cemetery, the fire is still not extinguished
still burns fertile branches pecked by birds.
O bitten mouth, O kissed organs,
O hungry teeth, O enveloping bodies.
O crazy connection of hope and effort,
in which we mingle and despair.
And tenderness is light as water and dust,
the word begins vaguely between the lips.
It was my destiny, my journey of longing passed in this
and my longing collapsed there, everything sank in you!
O abyss of debris, everything has fallen into it,
what sadness you didn’t suffer, what waves remained
that doesn’t swallow you.
Yet you called out, sang from waves to waves.
Standing on the bow of the ship like a sailor.
You still bloom with songs, you still break in currents.
O abyss of debris, open and bitter well.
Pale blind diver, unfortunate of the depths,
lost explorer, everything sank in you!
This is the hour of separation, rough, like this.
The moment the night is marked on all timelines.
Wraps the shore, the rustling belt of the sea.
Cold stars rise, black birds migrate.
Abandoned, like the docks at sunset.
A shaky shadow remained playing in my hands.
Ah, far from everything. Far from everything.
This is the time of separation. O abandoned!
The poem he dedicated to Nazım Hikmet, saying, “We cannot even be poets next to him”: A Wreath from Autumn Flowers to Nazım
Why did you die, Nâzım?
What do we do now
missing your songs?
Where can we find another spring?
let it be the smile you greet us with?
Fire and water mixed like yours
full of joy with pain,
Where can we find the view that calls the truth?
My brother,
you have created such deep feelings and thoughts that in me,
bitter wind from the sea
would grab them
drifts like a cloud, like a leaf,
the one you chose while living
and your shelter after death
they fall there, into distant land.
Here’s a bunch of Chilean chrysanthemums
Take the cold radiance of the moon over the southern seas,
peoples’ war, my own fight
and the muffled roar of my homeland’s mournful drums
my brother, how am I alone in the world without you,
longing for the golden face of the blossoming cherry tree,
which is bread for me, quenches my thirst, power for my blood
lacks the friendship that gives.
We met when you got out of prison,
from the dim prison like a well of tyranny and pain,
I saw the traces of cruelty in their hands,
I looked for the arrows of quinine in your eyes,
but you had a bright heart,
a heart full of wounds and light.
What should I do now?
Can the world be designed
without the flowers you planted everywhere?
How to live without taking you as an example,
without hearing your public intelligence, your poetic power?
Thanks for being like this,
thank you for the fire you light with your songs.
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