"No, the story of our love was not
so ephemeral: among the smooth folios
of the virginal book of your memory,
as blue petals are the suffering, noble
and caste-like glories of my verses.
"You cannot forget me; I condemn you
to a tenacious souvenir. My love
has been the highest point of your life,
the best; and only between the mud and
the smile, there surges the pale lotus
of the forgotten.
"You will see me wherever, in the uncertain
nightfall, in the golden dawn;
and when you labor in the deserted corridor,
while the monotonous threads of rain
tremble in your orchard.
"You will have to remember! This is
my inheritance that my pain has given you,
that nothing is spellbound.
"You will be at the lighted top of your
existence, and an ineffable reproach
in your conscience and an immortal trail
inside your soul!"