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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.
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