Monday, June 13, 2011

from Sonnet XVII



 
by Pablo Neruda


  ...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.

2 comments:

  1. Sigh...so romantic and satisfying.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ooo....so sweet...love it...smiles.

    ReplyDelete

Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)