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love

...it is your eyes that close

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 don't 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 it is your eyes that close.

--Sonnet XVII, Pablo Neruda
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