Love Sonnet XVIII

Love Sonnet XVIII

by Pablo Neruda

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 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.