To my lovely wife

I know that lately I have been giving tribute to a lot of random things, but I thought that I should give tribute to the most important thing in my life, my wonderful wife.
So, I thought that the best ways to do this would be through a poem by Pablo Neruda. The Poem is entitled "Sonnet 17".

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 solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I love you love!