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.

(translator unknown)

I first came across Neruda’s poetry when I was in college. We studied him as part of the syllabus. Though poetry was never one of my favourite subjects, I found that I liked Neruda. There is something about the way he wrote that just captivates the reader, even a lay one like me.

This poem quickly entered my halls of poetical fame because on some level I identified with the very literal movement from intense love to hatred and back again that the poem portrays.

I am afraid that’s the best - and I know it is not nearly enough - I can do here. I hope those of you who read it, also fall in love with it the way I have.

— Shatarupa