When reading your letters, what harmonies

made me scherzos in the soul long ago. Formerly,

how I was happy, when you smiled

of my affection disloyal lady.

I had pride, hearing what you said:

virginal words that decorate the heart.

Today, however, you are other!... How many ironies

tells to me that mouth used to the kiss... now.

And that you will be, faded captious flower,

hurt by lascivious vain hand

of who should conserve you pure?

The letter that I thought — tough truth! —

should it come to shine to me in healthy happiness,