I loved you, and perhaps I love you still.
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished;
yet burns so quietly within my soul.
No longer should you feel distressed by it.

Silently and hopelessly I love you,
At times too jealous and at times too shy,
God grant you find another who will love you,
As tenderly and truthfully as I.
Alexander Pushkin

There are a few translations of this poem by Alexander Pushkin, although I love this one best. I imagine one of my characters would say this to her beloved, but not aloud.

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