December 2007
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Sonnet XVII
by Pablo Neruda, from One Hundred Love Sonnets 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 fragance, risen from the earth,...
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“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the...”