This is perhaps my favorite poem. Originally written in Spanish by the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, the translation may not completely do it justice, but it’ll have to suffice since I don’t speak Spanish fluently enough to translate it myself. Enjoy.
I do not love you as the salt-rose, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
Secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms and carries,
Hidden within itself, the light of those flowers;
And thanks to your love, darkly in my body
Lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how or when or from where.
I love you simply, without complexities or pride.
I love you because I know no other way
Than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
So close that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
So close that it’s your eyes that close as I fall asleep.
-Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII