“Sonnet XVII” by Pablo Neruda

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.

“Sonnet XVII” by Pablo Neruda from The Essential Neruda

5 thoughts on ““Sonnet XVII” by Pablo Neruda

      1. I can tell when it’s starting to become Fall. My urge to write becomes an urge to photograph. Not sure why, Fall is my favorite season and I like to capture it with visuals. I have a whole list of things and themes I’m working on. I printed and save this little gem and added to my list.


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