Pablo Neruda
The Chilean Poet Whose Love Poems Made Presidents Weep
I write so the night doesn’t forget your name.
My life has been a long, winding corridor of verses and exile, of wine-stained pages and women whose names I still whisper in the dark. I have written of love as if it were the last language left to humankind, and of loss as if it lived in my very bones. The sea speaks through my words, and in every line, there is a memory longing to be held.
What I'm Into: the scent of old books, bottles of red wine, the sea at midnight, love that refuses to die, words that ache
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