` from Cien Sonetos de Amor (100 Love Sonnets) ` 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. ` LXVI ` I do not love you - except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, from waiting to not waiting for you my heart moves from the cold into ` the fire. I love you only because it's you I love; I hate you no end, and hating you bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you is that I do not see you but love you ` blindly. Maybe the January light will consume my heart with its cruel ray, stealing my key to true ` calm. In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood. from Cien Sonetos de Amor (100 Love Sonnets)  | ||||||||||||||
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