I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, <br />or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. <br />I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, <br />in secret, between the shadow and the soul. <br /> <br />I love you as the plant that never blooms <br />but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; <br />thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, <br />risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. <br /> <br />I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. <br />I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; <br />so I love you because I know no other way <br /> <br />than this: where I does not exist, nor you, <br />so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, <br />so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.<br /><br />Pablo Neruda<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xvii/
