Pablo Neruda (born Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto) as a young man.
Our wedding ceremony was cobbled together with rock and roll and bagpipes and honest poetry, love and tears; there were no vows, except to bluntly say, “I do.” If the act of marriage itself is not promise enough, then an oath is meaningless armor against the inevitable.
Bells Are Ringing
I DO NOT LOVE YOU EXCEPT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU BY PABLO NERUDA
The Chef and I are somewhere on this spectrum of cute coupledom:
Results Are In: Pablo Neruda Was Not Poisoned [HUFF POST BOOKS]
However, his family is not convinced.
For more on this story, go here.
The Eighth of September by Pablo Neruda
This day, Today, was a brimming glass.
This day, Today, was an immense wave.
This day was all the Earth.
This day, the storm-driven ocean
lifted us up in a kiss
so exalted we trembled
at the lightning flash
and bound as one, fell,
and drowned, without being unbound.
This day our bodies grew
stretched out to Earth’s limits,
orbited there, melded there
to one globe of wax, or a meteor’s flame.
A strange door opened, between us,
and someone, with no face as yet,
waited for us there.
Pablo Neruda To Be Exhumed In Chile [courtesy of Huff Post Books]
“Give me silence, water, hope
Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.”-Pablo Neruda
“I don’t want to go on being a root in the dark,
vacillating, stretched out, shivering with sleep,
downward, in the soaked guts of the earth,
absorbing and thinking, eating each day.”-Pablo Neruda
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