I do not love you as if you were salt rose, topaz,
Or arrow of carnations disseminating fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
In secret, between shadow and soul.

I love you like the plant that does not bloom
But bears hidden within itself those flowers’ light,
And thanks to your love there dwells darkly in my body
The compressed scent arisen from the earth.

I love you, knowing neither how, nor when, nor whence;
I love you directly, without problems or pride:
Thus I love you, for I know no other way,

Unless it be such that there’s no I nor You,
So close that your hand on my chest is my own,
So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.