— Pablo Neruda —
………….………….………….
I love you, —
I love you in an inexplicable manner,
in an inconceivable form,
in a contradictory way.
I love you
with my states of mind that are many
and change their moods continuously
for what I already know,
the journey, life, death.
I love you…
with the world that I can’t make out,
with the people that I can’t understand,
with the ambivalence of my soul,
with the inconsistency of my actions
with the doom of destiny,
with the conspiracy of desire,
with the ambiguity of what happens.
Even when I tell you I don’t love you, I love you,
even when I cheat you, I don’t cheat you,
basically, I’m making a plan
to love you better.
I love you,
without thinking about it, unconsciously,
irresponsibly, spontaneously,
unintentionally, instinctually,
impulsively, irrationally.
As a matter of fact, I have no logical reasons,
nor made-up ones either
on which to base this love I feel for you,
which arose mysteriously from nothing
and which has not turned magically into anything,
and miraculously, from very little, with not much and nothing
has improved the worst of me.
I love you,
I love you with a body that doesn’t think,
with a heart that doesn’t have logic,
with a head that doesn’t think straight.
I love you,
incomprehensibly,
without asking myself why I love you,
without worrying myself why I love you,
without questioning myself why I love you.
I love you
simply because I love you
even me, I don’t know why I love you.