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! ~