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Pablo Neruda - Sonnet XVII: I do not love you as if you were brine-rose, topaz
Work rating: High

	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.
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