there's any other way to loving?

i don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire

i love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and cries hidden within itself the light of those flowers,

and  thanks to your love, darkly in my body lives the dances fragrance that rises from the earth.

i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

i love you simply,without problems or pride

i love you in this way because i don't know any other way of loving.

but this, in which there is no i or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when i fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

by Pablo Neruda