I'm obsessed with this poem

Poema 15
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.

Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolía.

Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.
Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.

Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio
claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.

Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.
-Pablo Neruda

Now in English please:

Poem 15
It pleases me when you grow silent,
as though you were absent,
and you hear me from afar,
and my voice does not touch you.
It seems that your eyes have flown from you
and it seems that a kiss will close your mouth.
As everything is filled with my soul,
you emerge from everything,
filled with that soul.
Dream butterfly,
you resemble my soul
and you resemble the word melancholy.
It pleases me when you grow silent
and are as if far away.
As if moaning, butterfly lulled to sleep.
And you hear me from afar,
and my voice does not arrive:
let me quiet myself with your silence.
Let me speak with you also with your silence,
clear as the lamplight,
simple as a ring.
You are like the night,
quieted and clustered with stars.
Your silence is of the star,
so faraway and simple.
It pleases me when you grow silent,
as though you were absent.
Distant and dolorous as though you were dead.
One word then, one smile is enough.
And I am happy, happy that that is not so.

Translation: Terence Clarke