Speaker
Neruda's poems are largely united by a first-person speaker, though this speaker's identity is by no means consistent from one work to the next. In at least some of his poems, the speaker is a representation of Neruda himself, referencing specific events, places, and relationships from the poet's life: in his poem "I explain some things," the speaker's house, just like Neruda's own, is "called / the house of flowers, because everywhere / geraniums were exploding." Often in these cases, Neruda makes use of himself as a character, placing himself in the role of a trustworthy reporter bearing witness to historical events. The above poem goes on to include descriptions of Madrid's devastation under fascism, such as "gunpowder ever since, / and ever since then blood."
Regardless, the speaker in Neruda's work is almost always a source of vulnerability, developing an intimacy with the reader or subject, who is often addressed in the second person. In the poem "Night on the Island," the speaker beckons the reader (and the romantic subject) to join him in a moment of sleepy exposure in the lines "and on waking suddenly / in the midst of the shadow / my arm encircled your waist." In "Dead Gallop," the speaker reveals a deeply felt fear and hopelessness with the words "that thing my white heart cannot enclose, / in great numbers, in tears that barely seep out..."
This is true not only in the more overtly vulnerable works of love poetry or even in those expressing deeply felt political passion, but also in the less obviously emotional works such as many of Neruda's odes. In the odes' detailed, highly subjective accounts of physical objects, the speaker invites the reader to share a private and personal experience of sensory reality. In "Ode to My Suit," the speaker's experience of simply wearing clothes transforms into a serene meditation on mortality itself with the lines "you will grow ill, / suit, with me, with my body, / and together / we will be lowered / into the earth."
Maru Mori
Though a real-life friend of Pablo Neruda's, in "Ode to My Socks," Maru Mori is simply the knitter who gives handmade socks to the speaker. Through this simple but skillful craft, Mori brings a kind of unexpected beauty into the speaker's life. The speaker feels humbled before the socks and even unworthy of them, so that Mori's gift of socks becomes a bridge between the speaker's day-to-day self and the broader loveliness and mystery of the outside world.
The Suit
In "Ode to my Suit," the speaker's suit goes beyond mere symbol, becoming the poem's second-person addressee. It is the speaker's closest companion, a life partner who both impacts and is impacted by the speaker in a fluid, unending relationship. It patiently evolves along with the speaker, undergoing the experience of everyday life and, eventually, even that of death.
The Lover
Just as a first-person speaker ties together many of Neruda's poems, an anonymous female lover is often described or addressed in the second person within his love poetry. These lovers are not intended to be read as a single character (in fact, some of Neruda's love poems refer to very specific individuals from Neruda's life, such as his third wife Matilde Urrutia). However, they do tend to share certain characteristics: rather than being given highly specific names or identities, these women are granted an almost archetypal status and described as having a close connection to the natural and sensory world. Often, the lover's body is described as a conduit to nature: the subject of "Tonight I Can Write (The Saddest Lines)" has "infinite eyes," in an echo of the poem's "endless sky." Meanwhile, "Body of a Woman" begins with the metaphor "Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs...," tying the lover's body to a natural landscape.
