Pablo Neruda Cancer, Sagittarius Rising, with a" stellium "planetary Cancer, in House VIII, formed by Neptune, Mars, Sun, Moon, Venus and Mercury was born in Parral, July 12 1904 - and died in Santiago, September 23, 1973.
It 'was one of the greatest poets of Chile. It is considered one of the most important figures of contemporary Latin American and world literature.
His real name was Neftali Reyes Basoalto (Full, Ricardo Eliezer - or Eliecer - Neftali Reyes Basoalto). He used the name of art by Pablo Neruda (Czech writer and poet Jan Neruda) which later was also recognized at Legal. He was awarded the 1971 Nobel Prize for literature.
Neptune is the planet of illusion, but also of poetry. Represents all that is hazy, smoky, slightly distinguishable
and the environment where intuition is the only way to orient themselves. Virtually all the planets in the astrological chart of Neruda, with the exception of Ascendant, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Pluto are in water signs. The excess water in a Christmas theme symbolizes the receptivity extreme, intense emotions associated with clarity, impressionability and inspiration. Neptune is the planet of mediums, mystics and religious faith and fundamentalism. In an astrological chart, indicates the distillate, the dilution emotions, the vagueness, the understanding of the environment through their own emotions and the absence of clear and certain limits and structures. No coincidence that Neruda writes poetry in the woods of his birth, a symbol of purity with respect to a world at the beginning of 900, a phase of modernism in exasperation. Neruda was born in nature, and sings all his life to nature. This is evident in early amorous experiences lived outdoors, in a barn during the harvest festival that he calls the "golden".
Pablo Neruda - I confess that I have lived -
"Love
near the grain ... I stayed for a long time back with open eyes, face and arms covered with straw. The night was clear, cool e penetrante. Non c'era la luna ma le stelle sembravano appena lavate dalla pioggia e, sul sonno cieco di tutti gli altri, scintillavano tremolando solo per me nel grembo del cielo..."
e più avanti...
"L'OPPIO
...C'erano strade intere dedicate all'oppio ... I fumatori si stendevano su bassi tavolacci... Erano i veri luoghi religiosi dell'India... Non avevano nessun lusso, né arazzi, né cuscini di seta... Tutto era tavole non dipinte, pipe di bambù e poggiatesta di maiolica cinese... C'era un'aria di decoro e di austerità che non esisteva nei templi... Gli uomini addormentati non facevano movimento né rumore... Fumai una pipa... No! era niente... Era un fumo caliginoso, tiepido e latti ginoso... I smoked four pipes and stayed bad for five days, with nausea that I came from the spine, I came down from the brain ... It is a hatred of the sun, for the existence ... The punishment of opium ... But this could not be more ... It was so stated, it was so written, so it was rummaging in bags and suitcases, trying to discover the customs of the poison, poison the well-known sacred ... Winning the nausea ... I had to know the opium, opium know, to give my testimony ... I smoked many pipes, until I met ... There are no dreams, no pictures, no climax ... There is a weakening of melody, as if a note were to be extended infinitely sweet air ... A faint, empty inside ... Any movement, elbow, neck, distant sound of any vehicle, a shot of clackson or a cry from the street, they become part of a whole, a calm delight ... I understood why the plantation laborers, the laborers, the risciòmen rickshaw pulling and pulling the whole day, there are suddenly blurred, real estate ... Opium was not the paradise of the exotic that I had painted, but I'evasior: and exploited ... All of those poor devils den ercrro. There was no cushion Embroidered, no sign of even minimal wealth ... `Nothing was shining into the room, not even the half-closed eyes of smokers .. Rest, sleep ...? I never knew ... No one spoke ... No one ever spoke ... Not There were furniture, carpets, no ... Worn on the plank, so sweet to human contact, we saw some small wooden headrests ... Nothing else, except the silence and the smell of opium, and oddly repellent penetrating ... Without a doubt there was no way to extinction ... The opium of the magnates of the colonizers, the colonized was intended ... The Fumerie the door had their permission, their number and the license ... Inside, a great silence reigned opaque, inaction on what remedy to unhappiness and fatigue softened ... A silence hazy, sediment logs stagnated many dreams ... Those who dreamed with his eyes half closed, were living an hour immersed in the sea, una notte intera su una collina, godendo di un riposo sottile e ristoratore...
Dopo quella volía non sono più tornato alle fumerie... Ormai sapevo... Ormai conoscevo... Ormai avevo toccato qualcosa di inafferrabile... remotamente nascosto dietro il fumo... ."
Pablo Neruda - Confesso che ho vissuto (Autobiografia)
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