I Love U Poems Biography
Source:- Google.com.pk
I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.His original name was Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (say again?) before he borrowed his pen name from Czech poet Jan Neruda.
He was active in the Chilean Communist Party until his exile to Argentina after communism was temporarily outlawed in Chile, but he returned to his country after his Nobel Prize acceptance, in 1971, and collaborated with Chile’s new, socialist president Salvador Allende.
He died of an alleged heart attack, three days after being hospitalized with cancer, during the coup d’etat led by Chile’s to-be-dictator, Augusto Pinochet, who overthrew Allende’s government in 1973.
He wrote in green ink, to symbolize the hope and desire often present even in his darkest lyrics.
In case you are the only human left on earth who hasn’t yet fallen in love with his most famous and recited poem, let alone heard of Neruda, today is your lucky day.
Clear your throat, take another sip of wine, coffee, coconut water, herbal tea, rain (whatever liquid is best suited to your imagination) and repeat with me:No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueñoI thought, if I could ever get to do that with words, twist and bend and break them as if they were alive, make love to them, make hate, eat them and cry them out and breathe new life into them, until there’s nothing left of me but words, then anything was possible.But over the years, I’ve been reminded of my original infatuation and my Nerudian gateway into poetry, here and there, voiced through different life travelers.
Like this reading by Glenn Close, that magically seals my heart’s broken mouth and quiets my monkey mind and the Voices, somebody get the Voices, and everything else that keeps me from the present moment—if only, for a brief minute.I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.
I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,His original name was Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (say again?) before he borrowed his pen name from Czech poet Jan Neruda.
He was active in the Chilean Communist Party until his exile to Argentina after communism was temporarily outlawed in Chile, but he returned to his country after his Nobel Prize acceptance, in 1971, and collaborated with Chile’s new, socialist president Salvador Allende.
He died of an alleged heart attack, three days after being hospitalized with cancer, during the coup d’etat led by Chile’s to-be-dictator, Augusto Pinochet, who overthrew Allende’s government in 1973.
He wrote in green ink, to symbolize the hope and desire often present even in his darkest lyrics.
In case you are the only human left on earth who hasn’t yet fallen in love with his most famous and recited poem, let alone heard of Neruda, today is your lucky day.
Clear your throat, take another sip of wine, coffee, coconut water, herbal tea, rain (whatever liquid is best suited to your imagination) and repeat with me:No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueñoI thought, if I could ever get to do that with words, twist and bend and break them as if they were alive, make love to them, make hate, eat them and cry them out and breathe new life into them, until there’s nothing left of me but words, then anything was possible.But over the years, I’ve been reminded of my original infatuation and my Nerudian gateway into poetry, here and there, voiced through different life travelers.
Like this reading by Glenn Close, that magically seals my heart’s broken mouth and quiets my monkey mind and the Voices, somebody get the Voices, and everything else that keeps me from the present moment—if only, for a brief minute.I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.
I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.
His original name was Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (say again?) before he borrowed his pen name from Czech poet Jan Neruda.
He was active in the Chilean Communist Party until his exile to Argentina after communism was temporarily outlawed in Chile, but he returned to his country after his Nobel Prize acceptance, in 1971, and collaborated with Chile’s new, socialist president Salvador Allende.
He died of an alleged heart attack, three days after being hospitalized with cancer, during the coup d’etat led by Chile’s to-be-dictator, Augusto Pinochet, who overthrew Allende’s government in 1973.
He wrote in green ink, to symbolize the hope and desire often present even in his darkest lyrics.
In case you are the only human left on earth who hasn’t yet fallen in love with his most famous and recited poem, let alone heard of Neruda, today is your lucky day.
Clear your throat, take another sip of wine, coffee, coconut water, herbal tea, rain (whatever liquid is best suited to your imagination) and repeat with me:No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueñoI thought, if I could ever get to do that with words, twist and bend and break them as if they were alive, make love to them, make hate, eat them and cry them out and breathe new life into them, until there’s nothing left of me but words, then anything was possible.But over the years, I’ve been reminded of my original infatuation and my Nerudian gateway into poetry, here and there, voiced through different life travelers.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.
I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.His original name was Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (say again?) before he borrowed his pen name from Czech poet Jan Neruda.
He was active in the Chilean Communist Party until his exile to Argentina after communism was temporarily outlawed in Chile, but he returned to his country after his Nobel Prize acceptance, in 1971, and collaborated with Chile’s new, socialist president Salvador Allende.
He died of an alleged heart attack, three days after being hospitalized with cancer, during the coup d’etat led by Chile’s to-be-dictator, Augusto Pinochet, who overthrew Allende’s government in 1973.
He wrote in green ink, to symbolize the hope and desire often present even in his darkest lyrics.
In case you are the only human left on earth who hasn’t yet fallen in love with his most famous and recited poem, let alone heard of Neruda, today is your lucky day.
Clear your throat, take another sip of wine, coffee, coconut water, herbal tea, rain (whatever liquid is best suited to your imagination) and repeat with me:No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueñoI thought, if I could ever get to do that with words, twist and bend and break them as if they were alive, make love to them, make hate, eat them and cry them out and breathe new life into them, until there’s nothing left of me but words, then anything was possible.But over the years, I’ve been reminded of my original infatuation and my Nerudian gateway into poetry, here and there, voiced through different life travelers.
Like this reading by Glenn Close, that magically seals my heart’s broken mouth and quiets my monkey mind and the Voices, somebody get the Voices, and everything else that keeps me from the present moment—if only, for a brief minute.I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.
I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,His original name was Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (say again?) before he borrowed his pen name from Czech poet Jan Neruda.
He was active in the Chilean Communist Party until his exile to Argentina after communism was temporarily outlawed in Chile, but he returned to his country after his Nobel Prize acceptance, in 1971, and collaborated with Chile’s new, socialist president Salvador Allende.
He died of an alleged heart attack, three days after being hospitalized with cancer, during the coup d’etat led by Chile’s to-be-dictator, Augusto Pinochet, who overthrew Allende’s government in 1973.
He wrote in green ink, to symbolize the hope and desire often present even in his darkest lyrics.
In case you are the only human left on earth who hasn’t yet fallen in love with his most famous and recited poem, let alone heard of Neruda, today is your lucky day.
Clear your throat, take another sip of wine, coffee, coconut water, herbal tea, rain (whatever liquid is best suited to your imagination) and repeat with me:No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueñoI thought, if I could ever get to do that with words, twist and bend and break them as if they were alive, make love to them, make hate, eat them and cry them out and breathe new life into them, until there’s nothing left of me but words, then anything was possible.But over the years, I’ve been reminded of my original infatuation and my Nerudian gateway into poetry, here and there, voiced through different life travelers.
Like this reading by Glenn Close, that magically seals my heart’s broken mouth and quiets my monkey mind and the Voices, somebody get the Voices, and everything else that keeps me from the present moment—if only, for a brief minute.I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.
I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
This is a port.
His original name was Ricardo Eliecer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (say again?) before he borrowed his pen name from Czech poet Jan Neruda.
He was active in the Chilean Communist Party until his exile to Argentina after communism was temporarily outlawed in Chile, but he returned to his country after his Nobel Prize acceptance, in 1971, and collaborated with Chile’s new, socialist president Salvador Allende.
He died of an alleged heart attack, three days after being hospitalized with cancer, during the coup d’etat led by Chile’s to-be-dictator, Augusto Pinochet, who overthrew Allende’s government in 1973.
He wrote in green ink, to symbolize the hope and desire often present even in his darkest lyrics.
In case you are the only human left on earth who hasn’t yet fallen in love with his most famous and recited poem, let alone heard of Neruda, today is your lucky day.
Clear your throat, take another sip of wine, coffee, coconut water, herbal tea, rain (whatever liquid is best suited to your imagination) and repeat with me:No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueñoI thought, if I could ever get to do that with words, twist and bend and break them as if they were alive, make love to them, make hate, eat them and cry them out and breathe new life into them, until there’s nothing left of me but words, then anything was possible.But over the years, I’ve been reminded of my original infatuation and my Nerudian gateway into poetry, here and there, voiced through different life travelers.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.
I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
I Love U Poems Love Poems For Him For Her For Your Boyfriend For A Girl In Hindi Photos Images Pics
No comments:
Post a Comment