"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close."
"And our problems will crumble apart, the soul / blow through like a wind, and here where we live will all be clean again, with fresh bread on the table."
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Source: Pablo Neruda (1986). “100 Love Sonnets: Cien sonetos de amor”, University of Texas Press
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