Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Sonnet XVII - Pablo Neruda

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 itself in 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 from when, or from where 
I love you straightforwardly,
Without complexities or pride
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

~ So I don't usually post the works of others, but this poem strikes me so deeply and so profoundly that I needed to share it's beauty... Thanks for indulging me! ~

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