Among the Multitude … Among the man and woman, the multitude, I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs, Acknowledging none else-not parent, wife, husband, brother, child, Any nearer than I am; Some are battled-but that she is not - that one knows me. Ah, lover and perfect equal: I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirection; And, I when I meet you, mean, to discover you by the like in you. I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the tire shoots off. I love you 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 straight forwardly, without complexities or pride; So I love you because I know no other way Than this: where I does not exist, for you, So close that your hand on my chest is my hand, So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. ~ Pablo Nerude ~