When I read this a long time ago, I fell in love with it but I never knew the title so it was hard looking for a copy. Finally, I landed on a site a few months back that were taking requests for copies of written prose.

~

Sonnet XVII
Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)


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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