«Poco, mi serve. / Una crosta di pane, / un ditale di latte, / e questo cielo / e queste nuvole.»
«I loved you, and that love to die refusing, / May still — who knows! Be smoldering in my breast. / Pray, be not pained — believe me, of my choosing / I’d never have you troubled nor yet distressed. I loved you mutely, hopelessly and truly, / With shy yet fervent, tenderness aglow; / ...»
«I loved you; and I probably still do, / And for awhile the feeling may remain — / But let my love no longer trouble you: / I do not wish to cause you any pain. I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew / The jealousy, the shyness — though in vain — / Made up a love so tender and so t...»
«I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, / The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet / It burns so quietly within my soul, / No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly I loved you, / At times too jealous and at times too shy. / God grant you find another who ...»