I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it’s you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.
Neruda was a Chilean poet who won the Nobel Prize in 1971. He became a poet at the age of 10. Surrealist poems, historical epics, overtly political manifestos, a prose autobiography, and passionate love poems were written by him in different styles. It is interesting to know that he wrote with green ink as a personal symbol for desire and hope.