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 T 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.
Excerpt from 100 Love Sonnets
