Bookmarker is a personal project by @dellsystem to help with retaining reading material. Source on GitHub.

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You added a note
5 years, 10 months ago

adversities that were not mine

Little by little, and also in great leaps,
life happened to me,
and how insignificant this business is.
Those veins carried
my blood, which I scarcely ever saw,
I breathed the air of so many places
without keeping a sample of any.
In the end, everyone is of this:
nobody keeps any of what he…

—p.175 The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems by Pablo Neruda
You added a note
5 years, 10 months ago

poetry arrived in search of me misc/poetry

And it was at that age ... poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river
I don't know how or when,
no, they weren't voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street it called me,
from the branches of the night,
abruptly from…

—p.167 by Pablo Neruda
You added a note
5 years, 10 months ago

el campesino en el campo misc/poetry

When they were called to the table,

the tyrants came rushing
with their temporary ladies,
it was fine to watch the women pass
like wasps with big bosoms
followed by those pale
and unfortunate public tigers.

The peasant in the field ate
his poor quota of bread,
he was alone, it was late…

—p.137 by Pablo Neruda
You added a note
5 years, 10 months ago

The United Fruit Co misc/poetry

When the trumpet sounded, everything
on earth was prepared
and Jehovah distributed the world
to Coca Cola Inc., Anaconda,
Ford Motors, and other entities:
The Fruit Company Inc.
reserved the juiciest for itself,
the central coast of my land,
the sweet waist of America.
It re-baptized the l…

—p.95 by Pablo Neruda
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5 years, 10 months ago

rise up and be born with me misc/poetry

Rise up and be born with me, brother.

From the deepest reaches of your
disseminated sorrow, give me your hand.
You will not return from the depths of rock.
You will not return from subterranean time.
It will not return, your drilled-out eyes.
Look at me from the depths of the earth,
plowma…

—p.91 by Pablo Neruda