Abuliac

A Love Sonnet (XVII) by Pablo Neruda

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
yet carries within itself the light of hidden flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without complexities or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

than this, in which there is no I, nor you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so close that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.