I do not love you as if you were a 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 a plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers, thanks to your love a 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 omplexities or pride; so i love you because i know no other way than this; 

Were i does not exist nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes as i fall asleep.