Cien Sonetus de Amor
from 100 Love Sonnets
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 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 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.
by Pablo Neruda (translated by Stephen Topscott)