It’s July. The dark clouds hover overhead, and it soon starts to pour. It’s the perfect day to enjoy some heartfelt poetry with a cup of hot chocolate. But where to begin? Whose words will satiate the craving? Here’s a nudge! Have you heard of Pablo Neruda?
Pablo Neruda wasn’t awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for nothing. Did you know that he wrote over 3,500 poems on themes like war, history, love, politics, and human nature, all in simple yet thought-provoking language. This made him one of the most influential poets of the 20th century. His poetry is famous for its evocative imagery, deep emotions, and timeless appeal. A romantic and a revolutionary, his work often stirred controversy and also a much sought-after poet of his time. As we honor his legacy this July, let’s enjoy some of his best poems and cherish the powerful impact his words still have on the world.
Here are some of Pablo Neruda’s best poems that highlight his genius:
Tonight I Can Write (The Saddest Lines)
One of Neruda’s most famous poems, “Tonight I Can Write (The Saddest Lines)” is a poignant reflection on lost love. The poem captures the melancholic beauty of longing and heartbreak with lines like:
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don’t have her. To feel that I’ve lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn’t keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That’s all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
Sonnet XVII (100 Love Sonnets)
Neruda’s “Sonnet XVII” is a beautiful testament to his deep and profound love for his wife, Matilde Urrutia. Its opening lines are iconic:
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
If You Forget Me
This passionate and intense poem reflects Neruda’s thoughts on love and separation, a reminder that true love is eternal and ever-present:
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.
Ode to Salt
In “Ode to Salt,” Neruda finds beauty and wonder in the simplest of things, showcasing his ability to elevate the mundane to the extraordinary:
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste infinitude.
Walking Around
A reflection on urban life and its alienation, “Walking Around” is one of Neruda’s darker poems, portraying his disillusionment and inner turmoil:
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailor shops and movie houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.
The smell of barbershops makes me break into hoarse sobs.
The only thing I want is to lie still like stones or wool.
The only thing I want is to see no more stores, no gardens,
no more goods, no spectacles, no elevators.
It so happens that I am sick of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow.
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
A Dog Has Died
In this touching ode to his late dog, Neruda expresses his grief and the simple, honest bond he shared with his pet:
My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.
Some day I’ll join him right there,
but now he’s gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I’ll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.
Which is your favorite Pablo Neruda poem?
