LOVE you I don't love you as if you were brine-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that spread the fire: I love you the way that some dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul. I love you like the plant that doesn't blossom and carries inside itself, hidden, the light of those flowers, and because of your love, lives dark in my body the tight perfume that raised from the land up. I love you not knowing how, when nor whence, I love you directly without problems nor pride: in this way I love you because I cannot love any other way, but in this way in which I am not and you are not, so close that your hand on my chest is mine, so close that your eyes get closed with my sleep....