Pablo Neruda was a profound inspiration and favorite author of the magical realist writer, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Marquez adored Neruda and respected his work! Marquez is one of my most beloved writers. I wrote a story about Marquez for Examiner.com in 2016, a new media outlet that obtained 20 to 25 million readers a month. (To read my story Gabriel Garcia Marquez is immortalized by The University of Texas at Austin, please visit my business website http://www.nicolettemallow.com.)
Naturally, I enjoy Pablo Neruda, too, since Marquez’s writing was inspired by him, and you can see the parallels as you read extensively into their pieces. Below is my favorite quote in Spanish and English translation from Marquez’s novel “Love in the Time of Cholera.” As well as one of Pablo Neruda’s infamous poems I’ve always appreciated because he captures the mystery of true love, romance, and soul mates.
“Así termino pensando en él como nunca se hubiera imaginado que se podía pensar en alguien, presintiéndolo donde no estaba, deseándolo donde no podía estar, despertando de pronto con la sensación física de que él la contemplaba en la oscuridad mientras dormía, de modo que la tarde en que sintió sus pasos resueltos sobre el reguero de hojas amarillas en el parquecito, le costó trabajo creer que no fuera burla de su fantasía.” – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
“And so she thought about him as she never could have imagined thinking about anyone, having premonitions that he would be where he was not, wanting him to be where he could not be, awakening with a start, with the physical sensation that he was looking at her in the darkness while she slept, so that on the afternoon when she heard his resolute steps on the yellow leaves in the little park it was difficult for her not to think this was yet another trick of her imagination.” – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
Than this: where I does not exist, nor you
so close that your hand upon my chest is my hand
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
– Pablo Neruda