you were standing before my eyes, commanding me as you still do

How many times, love, did I love you without seeing you,
maybe without memory, without recalling your glance,
without noticing you, blue flower, in hostile regions,
in the fire of noon: you were the aroma of the harvest I love.

Maybe I saw you, or imagined you, when I passed by,
raising a toast in Angol to the light of moon in summer,
or you were the waist of the guitar I touched in the night
that sang with the sound of a measureless sea.

I loved you without knowing, I searched for your memory
in empty houses, I entered by night to steal your portrait,
but I already knew what you were like. Suddenly

while you traveled next to me I touched you and my life stopped:
you were standing before my eyes, commanding me as you still do.
Like a bonfire in the woods, yours is the kingdom of fire.

[Pablo Neruda {1904-1973}, 'XXII', from 100 Love Sonnets]