"I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her."
— Pablo Neruda
• When you share my paintings on the social media platforms, please cite my name, my website link or a link to my profile within the respective social media platform. That is the correct and respectful way to share artworks on the Internet.
• Color variations: the colors of the real products may vary depending on the technical settings of your screen.
• Learn more details about my paintings in the Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) section.
• For more questions, please contact me using the form in the Contacts section.
- Reproductions are made in limited volume of 20 or 30 pieces, depending on the painting. The reason for this limit is my aim to keep the value of the print and also to prevent the market from "flooding" with reproductions from the same painting. When the limit is reached I will no longer offer prints from that specific painting.
• Ordering dates: I accept orders all the time, but I send production orders to the print house every 1-st and 15-th day of the month.
• Production time: Usually orders are fulfilled within 7 to 10 business days following the date they were sent to the print house. That includes printing, stretching on bars and attaching wire hanger, and delivery (within Bulgaria). If you aim to buy something as a gift and there is a specific deadline you are after, please contact me, so I can confirm if we can make the deadline.
• Delivery: Ready prints are shipped once a month after a Sertificate for traveling abroad is issued from the National Gallery. Timing depends on your location.
• Price: The price given here is for one piece (copy) of the chosen size and includes: printing on 100% cotton canvas, stretching the canvas on wooden bars and attaching metal wire on the back.
• Maintenance: Cleaning the prints is to be done ONLY using dry cotton cloth.
• Final framing: Prints on canvas ordered here are delivered without final decorative frame.
• Non-standard sizes: If you want larger sizes, cropped versions (details), or other custom prints, please contact me to discuss details.
• Color variations: The colors of the real products may vary slightly due to the technical settings of your screen.
• For more information on what Giclee prints are: please visit the FAQ section.
"I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her."
— Pablo Neruda