You are perhaps mindless of me.

What a useless waste of time,

why this deep sorrow when necessity speaks

I was warned not to love someone like that,

yes, unhappily it must be so,

No one else can ever possess my heart,

Why must one be parted from one whom one so loves,

Can you change the fact that you are not wholly mine, i not wholly thine

Love demands everything and that very justly,

but you forget so easily

There are moments when I feel that speech amounts to nothing at all

Do not speak to me in such disastrous terms as you write,

you must live and be cautious,

If you love me, reassure yourself;

and call all your strength and presence of mind to your aid,

But you are faced with a 'no, never never' is your reply.

My answer to that is, "for the present I look upon that 'no, never never'

as a block of ice which I press to my heart to thaw".

But all I know, too, is that I am writing into space: the kind of dreadful,

unknown space I am just going to enter.

I used to sleep in your arms - do you remember?

But you never write.

You are perhaps mindless of me... I am not of you