Pablo Neruda Ode Poems

When I close a book
I open life.
I hear
faltering cries
...

Sadness, scarab
with seven crippled feet,
spiderweb egg,
scramble-brained rat,
...

Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
...

Among the market greens,
a bullet
from the ocean
depths,
...

America, from a grain
of maize you grew
to crown
with spacious lands
...

This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
...

Things get broken
at home
like they were pushed
by an invisible, deliberate smasher.
...

Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
...

Now
Let's look for birds!
The tall iron branches
in the forest,
...

The artichoke
With a tender heart
Dressed up like a warrior,
...

The street
filled with tomatoes
midday,
summer,
...

Every morning you wait,
clothes, over a chair,
to fill yourself with
my vanity, my love,
...

The animals were imperfect,
long-tailed,
unfortunate in their heads.
Little by little they
...

I don't believe in age.
All old people
carry
...

Poetry is white:
it comes from water swathed in drops,
it wrinkles and gathers,
this planet's skin has to spread out,
...

Oceanic dawn
at the center
of my life,
...