Love Poems By Pablo Neruda (English Edition)

This is a reading of "20 Love Poems and a Song of Despair" by Pablo Neruda. The original is in Spanish, this is a translation in English. These poems by this Spanish author have deep imagery, emotions, and depiction of love/broken heart. Relax and let the magic of Neruda take you to a night of beautiful and calm sleep. Perfect to listen on a full moon night.

Transcript

Good evening,

My name is Denise Borrath Trepat and tonight I will be reading the Spanish poetry book 20 Love Poems and a Song of Despair by Pablo Neruda.

These poems were originally written in Spanish.

This is the translation by W.

S.

Merwin.

Before we begin,

Make sure to find a comfortable position.

Let go of all the stress of the day.

Feel the warmth of the sheets caressing your skin and remember that you are safe.

Right now there is nowhere to go,

Nothing to do,

Nothing to worry about.

Everything you need is here,

Right now.

Bring your attention to your heart.

Take a deep breath.

Be grateful for this moment.

Relax.

And now,

Let's begin this evening of poetry.

Body of a woman,

Body of a woman,

White hills,

White thighs,

You look like a world lying in surrender.

My rough peasant's body digs in you and makes the sun leap from the depth of the earth.

I was alone like a tunnel.

The birds fled from me and night 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 riverbeds where the eternal thirst flows.

And weariness follows and the infinite ache.

The light wraps you.

The light wraps you in its mortal flame,

Abstracted pale mourner,

Standing that way against the old propellers of the twilight that revolves around you.

Speechless,

My friend,

Alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead and filled with the lives of fire,

Pure hair of the ruined day.

A bow of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment.

The great roots of night grow suddenly from your soul.

And the things that hide in you come out again.

So that a blue and pallid people,

Your newly born,

Takes nourishment.

Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold.

Rise,

Lead and possess a creation so rich in life that its flowers perish.

And it is full of sadness.

Ah vastness of pines.

Ah vastness of pines.

Murmur of waves breaking.

Slow play of lights,

Solitary bell,

Twilight falling in your eyes.

Toy doll,

Earth shell,

In whom the earth sings.

In you the rivers sing and my soul flees in them as you desire and you send it where you will.

In my road on your bow of hope and in a frenzy I will free my flocks of arrows.

On all sides I see your waste of fog and your silence hunts down my afflicted hours.

My kisses anchor and my moist desire nests in you with your arms of transparent stone.

Ah,

You mysterious voice that love tolls and darkness in the resonant and dying evening.

Thus in deep hours I have seen over the fields the years of wheat tolling in the mouth of the wind.

The morning is full.

The morning is full of storm in the heart of summer.

The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye.

The wind traveling,

Waving them in its hands.

The numberless heart of the wind beating above our loving silence.

Orchestral and divine resounding among the trees like a language full of wars and songs.

Wind that bears off the dead leaves with a quick rate and deflects the pulsing arrows of the birds.

Wind that topples her in a wave without spray and substance without weight and leaning fires.

Her mass of kisses breaks and sinks.

As sailed in the door of the summer's wind.

So that you will hear me.

So that you will hear me.

My words sometimes grow thin as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.

Necklace drunken bell for your hands smooth as grapes.

And I watch my words from a long way off.

They are more yours than mine.

They climb on my old suffering like ivy.

It climbs the same way on damp walls.

You are to blame for this cruel sport.

They are fleeing from my dark lair.

You feel everything.

You feel everything.

For you they people the solitude that you occupy.

And they are more used to my sadness than you are.

Now I want them to say what I want to say to you.

To make you hear as I want you to hear me.

The wind of anguish still hauls on them as usual.

Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over.

You listen to other voices in my painful voice.

Lament of old mouths.

Blood of old supplications.

Love me companion.

Don't forsake me.

Follow me.

Follow me companion.

From this wave of anguish,

But my words become stained with your love.

You occupy everything.

You occupy everything.

I am making them into an endless necklace for your white hands.

Smooth as grapes.

I remember you as you were.

I remember you as you were in the last autumn.

You were the gray barret and the still heart.

In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on and the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

Clasping my arms like a climbing plant,

The leaves garnered your voice that was slow and at peace.

Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.

Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.

I feel your eyes traveling and the autumn is far off.

Gray barret,

Voice of a bird,

Heart like a house towards which my deep longings migrated and my kisses fell.

Happy as embers.

Sky from a ship fueled from the hills.

Your memory is made of light,

Of smoke,

Of a still pond.

Beyond your eyes,

Further on,

The evenings were blazing.

Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

Leaning into the afternoons.

Leaning into the afternoons,

I cast my sad nets towards your oceanic eyes.

There,

In the highest place,

My solitude lengthens in flames,

Its arms turning like a drowning man's.

I send out red signals across your absent eyes that move like the sea near a lighthouse.

You keep only darkness.

My distant female,

From your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.

Leaning into the afternoons,

I fling my sad nets to that sea that beats on your marine eyes.

The birds of night peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you.

Shedding blue tassels over the land.

White bee,

White bee,

You buzz in my soul,

Drunk with honey,

And your flight winds in slow spirals of smoke.

I am the one without hope,

The word without echoes.

He who lost everything and he who had everything.

Last tosser,

In your creeks my last longing,

In my barren land you are the final rose.

You who are silent,

Let your deep eyes close.

There the night flutters.

Your body,

A frightened statue,

Naked.

You have deep eyes in which the night flails.

Cold arms of flowers and a lap of rose.

Your breasts seem like white snails.

A butterfly of shadow has come to sleep on your belly.

You who are silent,

Here is the solitude from which you are absent.

It is raining.

The sea wind is hunting stray gulls.

The water walks barefoot in the wet streets.

From that tree the leaves complain as though they were sick.

Flight thee,

Even when you are gone you buzz in my soul.

You live again in time,

Slender and silent.

You who are silent.

Drunk with pines.

Drunk with pines and long kisses.

Like summer I steer the fast sail of the roses,

Bent towards the death of the thin day,

Stuck into my solid marine madness.

Pale and lush to my ravenous water I cruise in the sour smell of the naked climate.

Still dressed in grey and bitter sounds and a sad crest of abandoned spray.

Hardened by passions I go mounted on my own wave,

Lunar,

Solar,

Burning and cold all at once.

Lumped in the throat of the fortunate isles that are white and sweet as cool hips.

In the moist night my garment of kisses trembles charged to insanity with electric currents,

Heroically divided into dreams and intoxicating roses practicing on me.

Upstream in the midst of the outer waves your parallel body yields to my arms like a fish infinitely fastened to my soul,

Quick and slow in the energy under the sky.

We have lost even,

We have lost even this twilight.

No one saw us this evening hand in hand while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin between my hands.

I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?

Who else was there?

Saying what?

Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that is always turned to a twilight and my cape rolled like a herd dog at my feet always,

Always you recede through the evening stores where the twilight goes raising statues.

Almost out of the sky,

Almost out of the sky half of the moon anchors between two mountains turning wandering night the digger of ice.

Let's see how many stars are smashed in the pool.

It makes a cross of burning between my eyes and runs away.

Forge of blue meadows,

Nights of still combat,

My heart revolves like a crazy wheel.

Girl who have come from so far been brought from so far,

Sometimes your glance flashes out under the sky.

Rumbling storm cyclone of fury you cross above my heart without stopping.

Wind from the tombs carries off wrecks scatters your sleepy root.

The big trees on the other side of her uprooted.

But you cloudless girl,

Question of smoke corn tassel,

You were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves.

Behind the nocturnal mountains,

White lily of conflagration,

I can't say nothing,

You were made of everything.

Longing that sliced my breast into pieces,

It is time to take another road on which she does not smile.

Storm that buried the bell's muddy swirl of torments,

Why touch her now?

Why make her sad?

Oh,

To follow the road that leads away from everything,

Without anguish,

Death,

Winter waiting along,

With her eyes open through the dew.

Your breast is enough,

Your breast is enough for my heart and my wings for your freedom.

What was sleeping above your soul will rise out of my mouth to heaven.

In you is the illusion of each day.

You arrive like the dew to the cup flowers,

You undermine the horizon with your absence,

Eternally in flight like a wave.

I have said that you sang in the wind,

Like the pines and like the masts,

Like them,

You are tall and taciturn and you are sad.

All at once,

Like a voyage.

You gather things to you like an old road.

You are peopled with echoes and nostalgic voices.

I awoke at times birds fled and migrated that had been sleeping in your soul.

I have gone marking.

I have gone marking the atlas of your body with crosses of fire.

My mouth went across,

A spider trying to hide,

In you,

Behind you,

Timid,

Driven by thirst.

Stories to tell you on the shore of evening.

Sad and gentle doll,

So that you should not be sad.

A swan,

A tree,

Something far away and happy.

A season of grapes,

The ripe and fruitful season.

I who lived in a harbor from which I loved you.

The solitude crossed with dream and with silence.

Pinned up between the sea and sadness,

Soundless delirious,

Between two motionless condoliers.

Between the lips and the voice,

Something goes dying.

Something with the wings of a bird.

Something of anguish and oblivion.

The way nets cannot hold water.

My toy doll,

Only a few drops are left trembling.

And so,

Something sings in these fugitive words.

Something sings.

Something climbs to my ravenous mouth.

Oh,

To be able to celebrate you with all the words of joy.

Sing,

Burn,

Flee like a belfry at the hands of a madman.

My sad tenderness,

What comes over you all at once.

When I have reached the most awesome and the coldest summit,

My heart closes like an eternal flower.

Every Day You Play Every day you play with the light of the universe.

Subtle visitor,

You arrive in the flower and the water.

You are more than this white head that I hold tightly as a cluster of fruit,

Every day between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you.

Let me spread you out among yellow garlands,

Who write your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south.

Oh,

Let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.

The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.

Here all the winds let go sooner or later,

All of them.

The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by,

Fleeing.

The wind,

The wind,

I can contend only against the power of man.

The storm whirls dark leaves and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here.

Oh,

You do not run away.

You will answer me to the last cry.

Cling to me as though you were frightened.

Even so,

At one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

Now,

Now too little one,

You bring me honeysuckle and even your breast smells of it.

While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies.

I love you and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting a costume to me.

My savage,

Solitary soul,

My name that sends them all running.

So many times we have seen the morning star burned,

Kissing our eyes.

And over our heads,

The grey light and wind in turning vents.

My words rained over you,

Stroking you.

A long time I have loved the sun mother of pearl of your body.

I go so far as to think that you own the universe.

I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains,

Bluebells,

Dark hazels and rustic baskets of kisses.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

I like for you to be still.

I like for you to be still.

It is as though you were absent and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.

It seems as though your eyes had flown away and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.

As all things are filled with my soul,

You emerge from the things,

Filled with my soul.

You are like my soul,

A butterfly of dream and you are like the word melancholy.

I like for you to be still and you seem far away.

It sounds as though you were lamenting,

A butterfly cooing like a dove and you hear me from far away and my voice does not reach you.

Let me come to be still in your silence and let me talk to you with the silence that is bright as a lamp,

Simple as a ring.

You are like the night with its stillness and constellations.

Your silence is that of a star as remote and candid.

I like for you to be still.

It is as though you were absent,

Distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.

One word then,

One smile is enough and I am happy,

Happy that it's not true.

In my sky at twilight,

You are like a cloud and your form and color are the way I love them.

You are mine,

Mine woman with sweet lips and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,

My sour wine is sweeter on your lips.

Oh reaper of my evening song,

How solitary dreams believe you to be mine.

You are mine,

Mine.

I go shouting it to the afternoon's wind and the wind hauls in my widowed voice.

Huntress of the depth of my eyes,

Your plunder steals your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music,

My love and my nets of music are as wide as the sky.

My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.

In your eyes of mourning,

The land of dreams begins.

Thinking tangling shadows,

Thinking tangling shadows in the deep solitude,

You are far away to,

Oh further than anyone,

Thinking,

Freeing birds,

Dissolving images,

Burying lamps.

Bell fry of fox,

How far away,

Up there,

Stifling laments,

Milling shadowy hopes,

Taciturn miller,

Night falls on your face downward,

Far from the city.

Your presence is foreign,

As strange to me as a thing.

I think I explore great tracks of my life before you,

My life before anyone,

My harsh life.

The shout facing the sea among the rocks,

Running free mad in the sea spray.

The sad rage,

The shout,

The solitude of the sea,

Headlong violent,

Stretched toward the sky.

You woman,

What were you there,

What rave,

What vain of that immense fan?

You were as far as you are now,

Fire in the forest,

Burn in blue crosses,

Burn,

Burn,

Flame up,

Sparkle in trees of light.

It collapses,

Crackling,

Fire,

Fire,

And my soul dances,

Seared with the curls of fire,

Who calls?

What silence,

Peopled with echoes?

Hour of nostalgia,

Hour of happiness,

Hour of solitude,

Hour that is mine from among them all.

Dancing horn through which the wind passes singing,

Such a passion of weeping tied to my body.

Shaking of all the roots,

Attack of all the waves,

My soul wandered,

Happy,

Sad,

Unending.

Thinking,

Bearing lamps in the deep solitude,

Who are you?

Who are you?

Here I love you,

Here I love you.

In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself,

The moon glows like phosphorus on the vagrant waters,

Days,

All one kind go chasing each other.

Under snow and furls in dancing figures,

A silver gull slips down from the west,

Sometimes a sail,

High,

High stars.

Oh,

The black cross of a ship,

Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet,

Far away the sea sounds and resounds,

This is a port.

Here I love you,

Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain,

I love you still among these cold things.

Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels that cross the sea towards no arrival,

I see myself forgotten,

Like those old anchors,

The pier saddened when the afternoon moors there.

My life grows tired,

Hungry to no purpose,

I love what I do not have.

You are so far,

My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights,

But night comes and starts to sing to me,

The moon turns its clockwork dream,

The biggest stars look at me with your eyes and as I love you,

The pines in the wind want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

Girl Life and Tawny Girl Life and Tawny,

The sun that forms the fruits,

That plumps the grains,

The curls,

Seaweeds,

Filled your body with joy,

And your luminous eyes and your mouth that has the smile of the water,

And your mouth that has the smile of the water.

A black yearning sun is paraded into the strands of your black mane when you stretch your arms.

You play with the sun as with the little brook and it leaves two dark pools in your eyes.

Girl Life and Tawny,

Nothing draws me towards you,

Everything bears me farther away,

As though you were noon.

You are the frenzied youth of the bee,

The drunkenness of the wave,

The power of the wheat-ear.

My somber heart searches for you,

Nevertheless,

And I love your joyful body,

Your slender and flowing voice,

Dark butterflies,

Sweet and definitive like the wheat field and the sun,

The poppy and the water.

Tonight I can write.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write,

For example,

The night is starry.

Write,

For example,

The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms,

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me.

Sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes?

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her.

To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night still more immense without her and the verse falls to the soul like due to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her?

The night is starry and she is not with me.

That is all.

In the distance someone is singing,

In the distance.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.

My heart looks for her and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees,

We of that time are no longer the same.

I no longer love her,

That certain,

But how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing and others.

She will be in others as she was before my kisses.

Her voice,

Her bright body,

Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her,

That certain,

But maybe I love her.

Love is so short,

Forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer.

And these the last verses that I write for her.

The Song of Despair The memory of you emerges from the night around me.

The river mingles its stubborn laments with the sea.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn,

It is the hour of departure.

Oh,

Deserted one.

Cold flower-heads are raining over my heart.

Oh pit of debris,

Fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

In you the wars and flights accumulated.

From you the wings of the songbirds rose.

You swallowed everything.

Like distance.

Like the sea,

Like time.

In you everything sank.

It was the happy hour of the assault and the kiss.

The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.

Pilots dread,

Fury of a blind driver,

Turvel and drunkenness of love.

In you everything sank.

In the childhood of mist my soul winged and wounded.

Lost discovered.

In you everything sank.

You girt sorrow.

You clung to desire.

Sadness stunned you.

In you everything sank.

I made the wall of shadow draw back,

Beyond desire and act I walked on.

Oh flesh,

My own flesh,

Woman whom I loved and lost.

I summon you.

In the moist hour I raise my song to you.

Like a jar,

You has the infinite tenderness and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

There was the black solitude of the islands and there,

Woman of love,

Your arms took me in.

There were thirst and hunger and you were the fruit.

There were grief and the ruins and you were the miracle.

Oh woman,

I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul,

In the cross of your arms.

How terrible and brief was my desire of you,

How difficult and drunken,

How dense and avid.

Cemetery of kisses.

There is still fire in your tombs.

Still the fruited bows burn,

Packed up by birds.

Oh the beaten mouth.

Oh the kissed limbs.

Oh the hungering teeth.

Oh the end-wind bodies.

Oh the mud coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired.

And the tenderness,

Light as water and as flower,

And the words scarcely begun on the lips.

This was my destiny and it was the voyage of my longing and in it my longing fell.

In you everything sank.

Oh pit of debris,

Everything fell into you.

What sorrow did you not express and what sorrow are you not drowned?

From below to below you still called and sang,

Standing like a sailor in the pro of a vessel.

You still flowered in songs.

You still broke in currents.

Oh pit of debris,

Open and bitter well.

Pale blind driver,

Luckless slinger,

Lost discovered in you.

Everything sank.

It is the hour of departure,

The hard cold hour which the night fastens to all timetables.

The rustling belt of the sea girdles to the shore.

Cold stars heave up,

Black birds migrate.

Deserted like the wharf sat on,

Only the tremulous shadow twist in my hands.

Oh further than everything,

Oh farther than everything it is the hour of departure.

Oh abandoned one.

I game played.

Reviews

I'm at awe. I've read one of the translated books of Pablo's poetry I purchased over 25 yrs ago. You have made that book come alive! I have love letters to read. lol Thank you.

Beautiful voice, beautiful words, beautiful way to fall asleep.