Pablo Neruda

(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973 / Parral / Chile)

Comments about Pablo Neruda

  • Rookie - 0 Points Lalrinkima Ralte (7/29/2015 3:20:00 AM)

    In my opinion, Neruda is the best poet in the contemporary world. With the kind of inclusive poetry, the way of his writing poetry, I just loved it.

    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 2 Points Tannu Sharief (6/5/2015 5:57:00 PM)

    Luv his poetry

  • Rookie - 0 Points Judy Eidson (5/16/2015 5:01:00 PM)

    I just discovered Neruda a short while ago. Where have I been? ? I love his poetry!

  • Rookie - 0 Points Judy Eidson (5/16/2015 4:56:00 PM)

    Simply exquisite. This is my favorite poem about love. I cried the first time I read it.

  • Veteran Poet - 1,725 Points p.a. noushad (5/8/2015 12:39:00 PM)

    Dear, I like your philosophic verses very much.

  • Rookie ruth que (4/17/2015 1:48:00 AM)

    i like this poem coz i remember one person who become a part of me

  • Rookie - 69 Points Azad Bongobasi (4/16/2015 2:04:00 AM)

    hell poet, I like your poem. from bangladesh

  • Freshman - 506 Points Gexg Lalnuna (4/6/2015 1:50:00 PM)

    He was a great man who produced great work.He inspired in every level of my life and that I find it fascinating.

  • Veteran Poet - 1,725 Points p.a. noushad (3/18/2015 8:48:00 PM)

    Pablo Neruda, some of your poems touch me deeply.

  • Rookie - 2 Points Aysegul Avcu (2/25/2015 8:58:00 AM)

    Nice

Best Poem of Pablo Neruda

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 exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,...

Read the full of If You Forget Me

We Are Many

Of the many men whom I am, whom we are,
I cannot settle on a single one.
They are lost to me under the cover of clothing
They have departed for another city.

When everything seems to be set
to show me off as a man of intelligence,
the fool I keep concealed on my person
takes over my talk and occupies my mouth.

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