By Pablo Neruda
Date: 27 October 2000

Sonnet XVII

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
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

  That 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.
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