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By Pablo Neruda Submitted by sarahsehee Date: 2001 Oct 03 Comment on this Work [[2001.10.03.22.28.31836]] |
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Love sonnet XVII I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz or the 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 but carries within 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 simply, without complexities or pride; I love you this way because I know no other way but this: in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep, it is your eyes that close. |