From cold into the fire

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 into the fire.

I love you only because it’s you 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.

-Pablo Neruda

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About Sig

Her days flew like the wind; for when she wasn't studying lessons, she was fond of building castles in the air, and dreaming of the time when something she had done would make her famous, so that everybody would hear of her, and want to know her. I don't think she had made up her mind what this wonderful thing was to be.
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