Three Poems of Pablo Neruda



“I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.”
— Pablo Neruda



“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
— Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets



“I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”
— Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII









To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed,
Scented and warm against my beating breast;
To whisper soft and quivering your name,
And drink the passion burning in your frame;
To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek,
And tease your mouth with kisses till you speak
Love words, mad words, dream words, sweet senseless words,
Melodious like notes of mating birds;
To hear you ask if I shall love always,
And myself answer: Till the end of days;
To feel your easeful sigh of happiness
When on your trembling lips I murmur: Yes;
It is so sweet. We know it is not true.
What matters it? The night must shed her dew.
We know it is not true, but it is sweet —
The poem with this music is complete.

Poem “Romance” by Claude McKay.






Kissing in Rain

“My love and I strolled outside.
In the flower garden.
Beautiful and scenic.

It was cloudy in the sky above.
It began to shower raindrops of love.
You and I darling become drenched.
Wet with droplets from above.

Love raindrops look good on your face.
From your lips they gave a sweet taste.
In your hair thay smelled so sweet.
Soft rain and you darling.
Heaven’s special treat.”


I love the taste of your lips wet by raindrops…











“I always like walking in the rain, so no one can see me crying.”
― Charles Chaplin



“The rain to the wind said,
You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”
― Robert Frost



“Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.”
― Vladimir Nabokov



“Love like rain, can nourish from above, drenching couples with a soaking joy. But sometimes under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots keeping itself alive.”
― Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept



“Crying in the rain. No one sees your tears and your pain gets washed away.”
― Elizabeth Bourgeret



“At night I dream that you and I are two plants
that grew together, roots entwined,
and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth,
since we are made of earth and rain.”
― Pablo Neruda, Regalo de un Poeta



“When it rains like that, dark in the afternoon, you feel like you’ve been taken into the past.”
― Jackie Kay, Wish I Was Here



“Tears are my joy to hide my pain;
like thunder hides the sound of rain.”
― Munia Khan



“And the rain drops kept falling like the sweetest music
leaving tears on the glass,
which is what music does to me
most of the time
but silence too. And rain.”
― Charlotte Eriksson



A Kiss in the Rain

A Kiss in the Rain

One stormy morn I chanced to meet
A lassie in the town;
Her locks were like the ripened wheat,
Her laughing eyes were brown.
I watched her as she tripped along
Till madness filled my brain,
And then–and then–I know ’twas wrong–
I kissed her in the rain!

With rain-drops shining on her cheek,
Like dew-drops on a rose,
The little lassie strove to speak
My boldness to oppose;
She strove in vain, and quivering
Her fingers stole in mine;
And then the birds began to sing,
The sun began to shine.

Oh, let the clouds grow dark above,
My heart is light below;
‘Tis always summer when we love,
However winds may blow;
And I’m as proud as any prince,
All honors I disdain:
She says I am her rain beau since
I kissed her in the rain.

Samuel Minturn Peck (1854-1938)







With the earth and the sky and the water,
remade, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms
a rose in the deeps of my heart.
– The Rose in the Deeps of His Heart, William Butler Yeats


I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,—
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
– At Last, Elizabeth Akers Allen


Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, hills and fields,
Woods or steepy mountains yields.
– The Passionate Shepherd to His Love, Christopher Marlowe


Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet, I’ll love her till I die.
– There is a lady sweet and kind, Thomas Ford


What is love? ‘Tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What’s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies not plenty;
Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.
– O Mistress Mine, William Shakespeare


Then came a moment of renaissance,
I looked up – you again are there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that`s beautiful and rare.
– A Magic Moment I Remember, Alexander Pushkin


But if each day, each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
– If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda


My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
– Sonnet 147, William Shakespeare


You Kissed Me


“You kissed me! my head had dropped low on your breast,
With a feeling of shelter and infinite rest,
While the holy emotion my tongue dared not speak
Flashed up like a flame from my heart to my cheek.
Your arms held me fast ! and your arms were so bold,
Heart beat against heart in that rapturous fold.
Your glances seemed drawing my soul through my eyes,
As the sun draws the mist from the sea to the skies.
And your lips clung to mine ’till I prayed, in my bliss.
They might never unclasp from that rapturous kiss.

You kissed me! my heart and my breath and my will
In delirious joy for the moment stood still.
Life had for me then no temptations, no charms,
No vista of pleasure outside of your arms.
And were I this instant an angel, possessed
Of the glory and peace that is given the blest,
I would throw my white robes unrepiningly down,
And tear from my forehead its beautiful crown,
To nestle once more in that haven of rest,
With your lips upon mine and my head on your breast.

You kissed me! my soul in a bliss so divine
Reeled and swooned, like a drunken man foolish with wine.
And I thought ’twere delicious to die then, if death
Would come while my mouth was yet moist with your breath.
‘Twere delicious to die if my heart might grow cold
While your arms wrapped me round in that passionate fold.
And these are the questions I ask day and night:
Must my soul taste but once such exquisite delight?
Would you care if your breast was my shelter as then,
And if you were here would you kiss me again?”

“You Kissed Me”, in Stolen Waters (Celia Emmeline Gardner, 1871, pag. 56/57).






Love Gifs & Love Poems

Wild Nights (Emily Dickinson)

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!



We Are Made One with What We Touch and See (Oscar Wilde)

We are resolved into the supreme air,
We are made one with what we touch and see,
With our heart’s blood each crimson sun is fair,
With our young lives each spring-impassioned tree
Flames into green, the wildest beasts that range
The moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change. 

With beat of systole and of diastole
One grand great life throbs through earth’s giant heart,
And mighty waves of single Being roll
From nerve-less germ to man, for we are part
Of every rock and bird and beast and hill,
One with the things that prey on us, and one with what we kill. . . . 

One sacrament are consecrate, the earth
Not we alone hath passions hymeneal,
The yellow buttercups that shake for mirth
At daybreak know a pleasure not less real
Than we do, when in some fresh-blossoming wood
We draw the spring into our hearts, and feel that life is good. . . . 

Is the light vanished from our golden sun,
Or is this daedal-fashioned earth less fair,
That we are nature’s heritors, and one
With every pulse of life that beats the air?
Rather new suns across the sky shall pass,
New splendour come unto the flower, new glory to the grass. 

And we two lovers shall not sit afar,
Critics of nature, but the joyous sea
Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star
Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be
Part of the mighty universal whole,
And through all Aeons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul! 

We shall be notes in that great Symphony
Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres,
And all the live World’s throbbing heart shall be
One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years
Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die,
The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!





 Bright Star (John Keats)

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art–
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors–
No–yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever–or else swoon to death.



Another Valentine (Wendy Cope)

Today we are obliged to be romantic
And think of yet another valentine.
We know the rules and we are both pedantic:
Today’s the day we have to be romantic.
Our love is old and sure, not new and frantic.
You know I’m yours and I know you are mine.
And saying that has made me feel romantic,
My dearest love, my darling valentine.



Your Hands


Your Hands

by Pablo Neruda

When your hands go out,
love, toward mine,
what do they bring me flying?
Why did they stop
at my mouth, suddenly,
why do I recognize them
as if then, before,
I had touched them,
as if before they existed
they had passed over
my forehead, my waist?

Their softness came
flying over time,
over the sea, over the smoke,
over the spring,
and when you placed
your hands on my chest,
I recognized those golden
dove wings,
I recognized that clay
and that color of wheat.

All the years of my life
I walked around looking for them.
I went up the stairs,
I crossed the roads,
trains carried me,
waters brought me,
and in the skin of the grapes
I thought I touched you.
The wood suddenly
brought me your touch,
the almond announced to me
your secret softness,
until your hands
closed on my chest
and there like two wings
they ended their journey.