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 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 frangrance,
risen darkly 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 upon my chest is my hand.
so close that your eyes close and i fall asleep.
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