Happy Valentines Day

Sonnet XVII

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

Than 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.

-- Pablo Neruda