Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were the 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
Found at A Goddess' Journey.
Thank you for the trackback, Tamar. I've just found your site this week and have been reading through it. I find it amazing how much we humans have in common, regardless of age, background, upbringing, etc. You've inspired a few posts that I'm working on and hope to post in the next week or so - once I get all my thoughts in order.
(((((Tamar))))))
Posted by: ikaba | November 20, 2005 at 10:57 AM
Thanks, ikaba. Looking forward to reading more of you at your site!
Posted by: Tamar | November 21, 2005 at 06:20 AM
Gorgeous ~ both in verse and sentiment!
Posted by: Gemma Grace | November 23, 2005 at 12:49 AM
Thanks!!
I've benn serching for this poem since i saw the movie Patch Adams... its a beautiful way to say the person you love, that you love them.
BYE!
Posted by: Soledad | November 25, 2007 at 09:39 AM
Estoy tan confundida respecto de este poema... No es de Walt Whitman???
POR DIOS!!
jajaja
alguien aclare
gracias, besos
Posted by: Maria del Carmen | January 21, 2008 at 07:04 AM