I love you, I love you, I love you!

A hundred times I love you!

But if the courage you do not possess

to say that you love me back;

If your words lack the sincerity,

the gentleness, the fidelity,

that I need from my closest lover

and I feel your caress become cold,

until no warmth remains;

until all that it contains

is unwanted desires and rougher

tougher feelings of lust;

then I'll break my own heart

and from you I'll sadly part.

I love you, but I love me more.

I want you, but right before

my soul is poisoned by your sour feelings,

I will leave you, as if I have no meaning.

For I know well that you won't be missing

neither my body, neither my spirit,

only the pleasure, and not what really

lies underneath it.