UNTITLED, by Alexender Pushkin
I have loved you; even now I may confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain
but do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tonguetied, yet, I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know;
So tenderly I loved you- so sincerely;
I pray God grant another love you so.
