This is my all-time favorite love poem:
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Sonnet 17
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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.
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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.
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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
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in which there is no ‘I’ or ‘You’;
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand
so close that when you fall asleep it is my eyes that close.
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by Pablo Neruda
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Questa è Enida 