One Hundred Love

I don't love you as if you were a rose of

salt, topaz,

or arrow of carnations that propagate

fire:

I love you as one lives certain obscure

things,

secrets,t, between the shadow and the soul.

 

I love you as the plant that doesn't

bloom but carries

the light of those flowers. hidden,

within itself,

and thanks to your love the tight aroma

that arose

from the earth lives dimly in my body.

 

I love you without knowing how, or

when, or from where,

I love you directly without problems or

pride:

I love you like this because I don't

know any other way to love,

except in the form in which I am not

nor are you,

so close that your hand upon my chest

is mine,

so close that your eyes close with my

dreams.

 

- Pablo Neruda

Done