The Queen – Pablo Neruda
I have named you queen. There are taller ones than you, taller. There are purer ones than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier. But you are the queen. When you go through the streets no one recognizes you. No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks at the carpet of red gold that you tread as you pass, the nonexistent carpet. And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world. Only you and I, only you and I, my love, listen to it.
This is my favourite love poem and amidst the sea of love poems, there are more emotionally charged ones, more beautifully written, more heart-wrenching, but this is my favourite. Neruda’s poetry is simple, and the language is direct and offers no space for those “the curtains are blue representing the speaker’s depression” kind of alarming over-reading. The image of a queen is regal, and connotes a sort of reverence in the relationship, as what Gen Z’s would like to say “treat yo girl like a queen”. The final stanza, especially the last three lines, honestly is my favourite part of it; the way everything just blurs into the background and the world shrinks to just the two of them is so intimate and familiar and what I imagine love to be once all the initial excitement fades off and loving turns into an active choice. To analyse this poem would be to ruin what I love about it, and so I’m going to leave it at that.
Your laughter – Pablo neruda
Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter. Do not take away the rose, the lance flower that you pluck, the water that suddenly bursts forth in joy, the sudden wave of silver born in you. My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life. My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens, and if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword. Next to the sea in the autumn, your laughter must raise its foamy cascade, and in the spring, love, I want your laughter like the flower I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country. Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter for I would die.
This poem is close to my favourite too because it just gives me to fuzziest feeling inside. One thing about Neruda’s poetry is that the simplicity of his language makes his emotions honest and frank, as though you were sharing a very personal and vulnerable conversation. In its simplicity, there is a very clear line of sight as to what Neruda is seeing, and what he wants you to see, which gives physicality to what he is writing about unlike poets who write more in terms of metaphors and ideas. All these work together to create a sort of intensity and concentration – quite literally only having eyes for “you”.
Another thing about the poem is how its coherence and compactness services the intensity of the poet’s feelings. The development the same imagery of “rose”, “lance flower” and “sudden wave” mentioned in the second stanza in the next few stanzas to come opens up the image from a dot into a whole scene. To me at least (because when I do laugh a lot it is very loud) the unfurling mirrors the way laughter bubbles in the chest and bursts forward and keeps expanding to the people around you (I’m sure science and sound waves explain this but that just reduces the magic). I think the images of big expansive things like “sky”, “all doors of life”, “foamy cascade” and “echoing country” captures the openness and broad explosive joy that I like about hearing people’s laugh (a clear distinction from a smile), and within such a succinct and compact poem it reminds me of how someone might think how does so much laughter fit into such a small body. The ending also alludes back to the beginning, to deprive the speaker of all things except “your laughter”, to bind the poem together tightly, and the final line is made striking because it is different and seems like a natural development to the logic that has been established throughout the poem.
“Your laughter” speaks of things very close to my heart because personally I just like to hear people laugh and I like to laugh (wow what a strange phrase, imagine saying this in your personal introduction) and especially nowadays since I’ve been deprived of the large dosage of laughter I have gotten used to, I really miss feeling a certain way that this poem reminds me of.
The infinite one -pablo neruda
Do you see these hands? They have measured the earth, they have separated minerals and cereals, they have made peace and war, they have demolished the distances of all the seas and rivers, and yet, when they move over you, little one, grain of wheat, swallow, they can not encompass you, they are weary seeking the twin doves that rest or fly in your breast, they travel the distances of your legs, they coil in the light of your waist. For me you are a treasure more laden with immensity than the sea and its branches and you are white and blue and spacious like the earth at vintage time. In that territory, from your feet to your brow, walking, walking, walking, I shall spend my life.
A very clear example of what I meant by Neruda’s poems having a very distinct line of sight – his visual movement traces in a motion that is purposeful and in this case strengthens the feeling of the never-ending expanse of his lover’s body. What I mean by this is that the entire poem is one whole block (which is quite rare in this particular collection) and the poem visually imitates the seemingly never ending stretch of body with its stretch of words, and most of the sentences are long and drawn out over many lines. It feels like you can see the path of the long search of the poet’s hands.
Also, I just love the line “you are white and blue and spacious like the earth at vintage time” and “in that territory from your feet to your brow … I shall spend my life”. Very pretty and romantic lines.
The well – pablo neruda
At times you sink, you fall into your hole of silence, into your abyss of proud anger, and you can scarcely return, still bearing remnants of what you found in the depth of your existence. My love, what do you find in your closed well? Seaweed, swamps, rocks? What do you see with blind eyes, bitter and wounded? Darling, you will not find in the well into which you fall what I keep for you on the heights: a bouquet of dewy jasmines, a kiss deeper than your abyss. Do not fear me, do not fall into your rancor again. Shake off my word that came to wound you and let it fly through the open window. It will return to wound me without your guiding it since it was laden with a harsh instant and that instant will be disarmed in my breast.
Quite literally about the highs and lows of a relationship, this part of the poem is interesting because of how it pushes the metaphor of falling into an angry pit of emotions and stewing over it. The well is an interesting image to choose because at the bottom of it should be water (soothing), in contrast to this particular case where all that is at the bottom is “proud anger”. Interestingly, the questioning in the second stanza seems to further stoke anger because they were asked with the knowledge of how unpleasant it is to be dwelling in anger, and the speaker knows that his actions will cause his lover to be “bitter and wounded”.
In a strange way this poem also captures how easy it is to hurt each other: the speaker’s harsh words “will return to wound me”, much like how a messenger pigeon will carry a message (the same hurt) both to and fro. The speaker clearly doesn’t intend to hurt his lover, wishing to keep a “bouquet” for her return, and the guilt of having hurt her eating at him when he has to disarm the “harsh instant” and reflect about why he chose to say things in the heat of the moment. The entire poem was his way of trying to make peace, but being too proud to apologise, this was the best way he could reconcile with his lover.
You would come -pablo neruda
You have not made me suffer, merely wait. My bride, you had to die and be born, I was waiting for you. I did not suffer looking for you, I knew that you would come, a new woman with what I adore out of the one that I did not adore, with your eyes, your hands, and your mouth but with another heart, who was that beside me at dawn as if she had always been there to go on with me forever.
Not a poem that is nice because, as these two extracts should show, there is no reconciliation after a fight and it was written to wound. Nonetheless, it hurts where it is worst and is well-crafted in a sense that it reflects what is true to Neruda’s character. It was upon reading this that I realised what he meant when he said that this collection was the most autobiographical of his poems, documenting with vulnerability and honesty how his relationship was – even in moments of bitterness and anger portrayed by this poem.
It is very clear now that all the “you” was written to address his wife, and in this poem especially I felt the intention very clearly that he wanted his wife to read this and spite her. The opening couplet is an angry lie, and possesses a quality that makes me think that a lot of people will tattoo this quote. The final stanza reinforces this idea and goes beyond that in an attempt to convince himself, to the point of overcompensating and saying even more hurtful things “a new woman with what I adore/out of the one that I did not adore”. We say hurtful things we do not mean sometimes to convince ourselves. And the trivialisation of all the experiences they have shared (“with another heart…as if she had always been there/to go on with me forever”), good or bad which defines their relationship – wow that was a low blow to piss his lover off and make her jealous.
the soldier’s love -pablo neruda
In the midst of war life led you to be the soldier's love. With your poor silk dress, your costume jewelry nails, you were chosen to walk through the fire. Come here, vagabond, come and drink on my breast red dew. You didn't want to know where you were going, you were the dancing partner, you had no Party, no country. And now walking at my side you see that life goes with me and that behind us is death. Now you can't dance any more with your silk dress in the ballroom. You'll wear out your shoes, but you'll grow on the march. You have to walk on thorns leaving little drops of blood. Kiss me again, beloved. Clean that gun, comrade.
Every stanza has the focus oscillating between the lover’s role, and the soldier’s role, and they eventually merge and draw parallels from each other. For example, the silk dress and dance and party might have introduced alcohol (“red dew”) but it also draws on the later image of walking on thorns and “leaving little drops of blood”. Even the “Party” in the fourth stanza could be a both a literal party, or referring to a political party, since Neruda was known as a politician. The stanza beginning with “you’ll wear out your shoes…” was referring to perhaps wearing out the shoe from many nights of dancing, but it was particularly relatable because long marches will wear out the sole of boots but the more you do it the stronger you get and longer you can go on. The fifth stanza, of seeing death trailing behind the speaker like a cloak, hints at how the intertwining realities of a lover and the soldier brings violence into their everyday till even the lifestyles need to make adjustments – compromises will have to be made (“now you can’t dance anymore”) and the gravity and violence of the choice one partner chose will have to become a shared one. The final two lines mirror each other in structure, drawing a close to how inextricably the dual roles are now tied to each other.
While it does romanticise war and violence which is something I should guard myself against, this poem is still beautiful in its own way. It really conveys the kind of love Neruda believes in, to be committed to not just the person but also all that they stand for, and willing to be dragged into the world they occupy no matter how dirty it gets. I think it is hopeful that it ends on “clean that gun”, an act trying to move on from the violence and cleanse and put away the need for it, indicative of the speaker trying to strike some compromises within this relationship. This poem captures love together with camaraderie and a positive partnership (perhaps one could comment on how the lines taper off into couplets, two by twos just like them sticking with each other) and it’s a very special sort of feeling.
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