Pablo Neruda – XVII I Do Not Love You

Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (1July 12, 1904 – September 23, 1973) Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz, or the arrows of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadows and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries inside 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 from 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.