I rediscovered this poem the other day by Pablo Neruda and I wanted to share it with you guys. I'm not in a mushy mood or anything, but this strange bout of indian summer has me feeling a bit nostalgic for some reason. Pablo Neruda is a chilean poet and the pen name of writer and politician Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto. His work has been translated in a hundred languages and he was awarded the noble prize in literature in 1971. He was a active political activist in those days and he did not go without his share of controversy. Truly a life worth living. In this poem I think he represents a love worth living for. Enjoy

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Pic via: Moderntimesbookstore

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were a 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.