Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. From billow to billow you still called and sang. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Era la sed y el hambre, y tú fuiste la fruta. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.
Y la canción desesperada también me gustó. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. Our souls ripped open and raw, our hearts on display, Love leaves vulnerable at places, we never thought be touched.
In the book there is a photograph of Mr. Poetry could hardly strive for more. It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. From billow to billow you still called and sang. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Its utterly sad that Pablo Neruda never learned to rhyme.
Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla. From you the wings of the song bird rose. Poems like his could have been memorized and truly remembered if he had any rhyme scheme at all. Oh the mad coupling of hope and forcein which we merged and despaired. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. Aún floreciste en cantos, aún rompiste en corrientes.
From you the wings of the song birds rose. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso. Without this deep bond between concept and affect, poetry would hardly be possible, seeing as it plays on the hidden cords that stretch between our sensory, cognitive, and emotional worlds, finding strange harmonies in disparate sources, revealing hitherto unimagined connections in our inner architecture. It makes a cross of mourning between my eyes, and runs away.
How terrible and brief was my desire of you! Y la palabra apenas comenzada en los labios. Maybe that's why it's one of the most-read poems ever written in the Spanish language. I went to Pablo Neruda's house once. Like them you are tall and taciturn, and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage. Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
The symbolism in these ballads is of wreck and misfortune: pit of garbage, furious give in of the shipwreck and substance. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. Oh, you do not run away. One simply needs to read and take in the pure and stark versification of the sensualities of life, both in love and lust. The author was only 19 at the time, so you can imagine the scandal these racy poems must have caused. Well, It's classic poetry with all the poetic devices were glittering in so wonderful form of words along in thread of rhythmic poetry. One word, then, one smile is enough.
The same night whitening the same trees. Poema 20 Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. الأول للمترجم مروان حداد و الثاني لمحمود السيد علي و الذي تتفوق عليه بمراحل ترجمة قوقل الفورية! And since love—and its dark twin, loss—resides at the center of this dusty network, Neruda has much to work with. It is hard to make selections from this book; every poem is a work of wonder. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. From billow to billow you still called and sang.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? In you the wars and the flights accumulated. Cold flowers pour over my heart. Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío. But then, Spanish speakers do love their poetry, and this little book is one of the most popular of all time. Behind the nocturnal mountains, white lily of conflagration, ah, I can say nothing! Sin dudas la pluma de este autor es bellísima, su vocabulario para expresar lo que siente es cautivador,es atrapante y intenso. Te tumbó la tristeza, todo en ti fue naufragio! Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I was teaching English in Santiago, Chile at the time. However, I'm keen reader of profound and deeply influenced kind of poetry, This book was given me same taste for me. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. Now I've moved him up to number 2, just under Kafka. This was my destiny and in it was the voyage of desire, and in it my longing fell, in you sankeverything! One word then, one smile, is enough. The birds fled from me and the night entered me with its powerful invasion. Below are some of my favourite, quotable lines: The simple, fast and action-packed eroticism of the first lines of the opening poem, Body of a woman.