I am afraid to speak a single one of all the words I have in my heart .But writing is a different matter, I’ll now put down on paper the love letter that I have written within myself a hundred times, I only have to look in my soul and copy the words inscribed in it. I always have a verse in my heart written to some imaginary lady, because I am one of that me whose sweethearts are dreams breathed in the bubble of a name, you can only change my fantasy to reality
I could no more stop loving you than I could stop the raising of the sun .My cruel love has never ceased to grow in my tormented soul since the day it was born there . Believe me when I say my heart cries out to you and kisses could be sent in writing, you could read this letter with your lips. One look at the starry sky above us is enough to make me want to throw off all the artificiality. If the expression of feelings is refined too much the feeling itself is lost. Until now words have never come from my true heart, because till now I always spoke through the intoxication that seizes anyone who stands before your gaze. But today it seems to me that am speaking to you for the first time, this is so new to me, it is so new to me to be sincere without fear of being laughed at, laughed at for the outburst of feeling, my heart always timidly hides itself behind my mind. I set out to bring down stars from the sky and for fear of ridicule I stop to pick little flowers of eloquence.
I want to go on taking advantage of this opportunity, this chance for me to talk to you without seeing each other. All those that enter my mind of their own accord, I give them to you without arranging them in bouquets; I love you I am overwhelmed; I love you to the point of madness! Your name is in my heart like a bell, shaken by my constant trembling ringing day and night. When I have gazed at the bright glory of your smile my dazzled eyes see golden spots on everything. Anyone who has seen you has known perfection; you create grace without movement and make divinity fit in your slightest gesture. This feeling that holds me in its merciless grip could be nothing else but love! It has all the terrible jealousy and somber violence of love and unselfishness too. How gladly I would give my happiness for the sake of yours and even without your knowledge only asking to hear from a distance now and then, the laughter born of my sacrifice! Are you beginning to understand me now? Do you feel rising to you in the darkness? Ah, it’s all too beautiful, too sweet this feeling! I say all these things and you read them-listen to me! It’s more a daring dream I never hoped for so much! I couldn’t be happy at this moment! I must stop writing now for my hands are trembling; it’s because of my words that I am trembling, for I am trembling like one of the leaves in the dark foliage of the woods.