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
Sonnet XVII
No comments:
Post a Comment