Sonnet XVII, a love poem — Pablo Nerudae

for a wedding and Valentine’s Day…

You have become mine forever.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, 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, do close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.