Quotes About Beauty

But you, cloudless girl, question of smoke, corn tassel. You were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves. Behind the nocturnal mountains, white lily of conflagration, ah, I can say nothing!  You were made of everything.

Todo era de los otros y de nadie, hasta que tu belleza y tu pobreza llenaron el otoño de regalos.

I hold a dramatic and romantic concept of life; What doesn't touch my senses means nothing to me

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.

Hay una estrella mas abierta que la palabra 'amapola'? Is there a star more wide open than the word 'poppy?

Why is it so hard, the sweetness of the heart of the cherry? Is it because it must die or because it must carry on?

The Potter Your whole body is A glass of wine Or sweetness destined for me. When I raise my hand, I find in every place a dove Seeking for me, As if, my love, You were made of clay For my very hands of a potter. Your knees, your breasts, Your waist, Disappear in me like in a hollow Of a thirsting earth Where they lose A form, And together We become like a single river, Like a single grain of sand.

You, in bloom, heart, beloved, you are like the foliage of the sky over my eyes and I look at you lying on the earth

I can scarcely measure the sky's most spacious eyes and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.

Neither the heart cut by a sliver of glass in a wasteland of thorns, nor the atrocious waters seen in the corners of certain houses, waters like eyelids and eyes, could hold your waist in my hands when my heart lifts its oak trees toward your unbreakable thread of snow.   Night sugar, spirit of crowns, redeemed human blood, your kisses banish me, and a surge of water with remnants of the sea strikes the silences that wait for you surrounding the worn-out chairs, wearing doors away.

In you the wars and the flights accumulated, From you the wings of the songbirds rose.

Pure your gentle name, pure your fragile life, bees, shadows, fire, snow, silence and foam, combined with steel and wire and pollen to make up your firm and delicate being. Pablo Neruda's epitaph for Tina Modotti

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

It was beautiful to live when you lived!

Amo ciò che di tenace ancora sopravvive nei miei occhi, nelle mie camere abbandonate dove abita la luna, e ragni di mia proprietà, e distruzioni che mi sono care, adoro il mio essere perduto, la mia sostanza imperfetta.

I love you between shadow and soul. I love you as the plant that hasn't bloomed yet, and carries hidden within itself the light of flowers. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. Because of you, the dense fragrance that rises from the earth lives in my body, rioting with hunger for the eternity of our victorious kisses.

Remembering her, it is as if my heart were buried in the rain. Again I think it's she, but why would she be coming now? Oh, what sad days! […] Your eyes : two sleepy cups darkened by purple berries from the forest undergrowth. What a leaf, a leaf from a white vine, fragrant and heavy, I could have brought you from the forest. Every- thing flees from this solitude enforced by rain and contemplation.

Book beautiful book, miniscule forest, leaf after leaf your paper smells of the elements. . . .

My love, suddenly your hip is the curve of the wineglass filled to the brim, your breast is the cluster, your hair the light of alcohol, your nipples, the grapes your navel pure seal stamped on your barrel of a belly, and your love the cascade of unquenchable wine, the brightness that falls on my senses, the earthen splendor of life.

veo el mundo enteramente rosa y azul.

III Tell me, is the rose naked or is that her only dress? Why do trees conceal the splendor of their roots? Who hears the regrets of the thieving automobile? Is there anything in the world sadder than a train standing in the rain?

I have named you queen. There are taller than you, taller. There are purer 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

Under your ski the moon is alive.

Lovely one, your eyes are too big for your face, your eyes are too big for the earth. There are countries, there are rivers, in your eyes, my country is your eyes, I walk through them, they light the world through which I walk, lovely one. — Pablo Neruda, from "Lovely One," The Captain's Verses: Love Poems . (New Directions Publishing Corporation; Bilingual edition July 2004) Originally published 1952.