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grenade · 09-10-2012, 09:07 PM

Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I nor you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I sleep it is your eyes that close.

09-10-2012, 09:07 PM	#9798
grenade Senior Member How Do You Identify?: Full Flavor Femme Join Date: Apr 2011 Location: Midwest Posts: 2,929 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 5,925 Thanked 8,058 Times in 2,121 Posts Rep Power: 21474853	one more... Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries hidden within itself the light of those flowers, and thanks to your love, darkly in my body lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I nor you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I sleep it is your eyes that close.