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.

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.

Could this be the butterfly
that brings about a change
The birthplace of the hurricane
that cause things to rearrange
Could it sweep across the nation
from the bottom to the top
Could it be the inspiration
that makes us finally say "Stop!
It's time to end this madness
turn off the war machines
We the people, we want peace
do you remember what that means?"