I wake filled with thoughts of you. Your portrait and the intoxicating evening
which we spent yesterday have left my senses in turmoil. Sweet, incomparable
Josephine, what a strange effect you have on my heart! Are you angry? Do I see
you looking sad? Are you worried?... My soul aches
with sorrow, and there can be no rest for you lover; but is there still more in
store for me when, yielding to the profound feelings which overwhelm me, I draw
from your lips, from your heart a love which consumes me with fire? Ah! it was last night that I fully realized how false an image
of you your portrait gives!
You are leaving at
Until then, mio dolce amor,
a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire.
Napoleon Bonaparte