Pablo Neruda
Poem
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoot off.
I love you as certain dark things 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 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 on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
