Pablo Neruda

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.

The most beautiful things are those that madness does and reason writes.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you this way because I don’t know any other way of loving.

Leave me to the sea, to the waves, to the wind, to the sun, to the moon, to the stars, to the infinite.

I am not a poet; I am a man who writes.

The universe is a language, and we are the words.

The world is a sea, and we are the ships.

I am a lover of life, a lover of love, a lover of the sea.

I want to do with you what the moon does with the night.

The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.

I have forgotten your face, your hands, your voice, your name. But I have not forgotten your kiss.

In one kiss, you’ll know all I haven’t said.

You are the silence in which I burn.

The sea is my mother, my lover, my friend.

The earth is my body, and the sky is my soul.

I am a poet, and I write what I feel.

The world is a poem, and we are the verses.

I am a lover of words, and a wordsmith.

The sea is my soul, and the sky is my heart.

I am a dreamer, and I dream in words.