Pabloo+Neruda

Pablo Neruda 7.21.1904 – 9.23.1973 by: Brooks  Pablo Neruda was a famous poet who lived from 1904 until 1973. He was born on July 21th, 1904 in Parral, Chile. His real name was Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto, but he went by Pablo. Pablo’s father worked on the railroad and his mother worked as a teacher. Shortly after Pablo’s birth, his mother died of Cancer. Following her death, Pablo and his father moved to Temuco where his father remarried to Trinidad Candia Malverde. As the poet grew older in the town of Temuco, he started writing articles to the daily “la manana” at a nearby school. When Pablo grew older, he moved back to Chile in 1943. He committed himself to be a full-time hard-working poet. Later, Pablo died on September 23rd, 1973 of heart failure.

__#1 Entrance of the Rivers

__ Beloved of the rivers,beset  By azure water and transparent drops, Like a tree of veins your spectre Of dark goddess biting apples: And then awakening naked To be tattoed by the rivers, And in the wet heights your head Filled the world with new dew.

Water rose to your waist, You are made of wellsprings And lakes shone on your forehead. From your sources of density you drew Water like vital tears And hauled the riverbeds to the sand Across the planetary night, Crossing rough, dilated stone, Breaking down on the way All the salt of geology, Cutting through forests of compact walls Dislodging the muscles of quartz.

__#2 In my Sky at Twilight __ and your form and colour are the way I love them. You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips and in your life my infinite dreams live.
 * In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet, the sour wine is sweeter on your lips, oh reaper of my evening song, how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice. Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love, and my nets of music are wide as the sky. My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning. In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.  ||