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Pablo Neruda 

I wonder if Pablo Neruda was a great lover

Or if he just had his way with words

We’re his lips tender and sweet when he kissed you? 113 more words

Poetry

Todo ha florecido en

Neruda, writing a poem whose title evokes springtime and the great 16th century poet, Quevedo, manages to be remarkably downbeat here. This is certainly not one of those uplifting springtime poems where the vitality and renewal of nature are uplifting for the human soul. 394 more words

Cats Dream

On Saturday we brought home a six-week-old kitten. He’s an orange tabby and we’ve named him Pippin.

Sabrina and Tristan are not too put out about this, as he’s just a tiny mite of a thing and so far he has stayed in our bedroom. 401 more words

A difficult truth, because it is so simple

Beyond the many veils of this difficult life lies a simple truth. And just as this truth can free us into a real and complete happiness, it can also shred us into a bitter shame or painful settling. 320 more words

Life

A little bit of love for Ireland on our big day!

From Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

(trans. by Stephen Tapscott)

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

40 more words
Poetry

Here I Love You

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other. 176 more words

Poetry