by Louis Simpson and Marceline Desbordes-Valmore

    Do not write. I am sad， and want my light put out.

    Summers in your absence are as dark as a room.

    I have closed my arms again. They must do without.

    To knock at my heart is like knocking at a tomb¹.

    Do not write！

    Do not write. Let us learn to die， as best we may.

    Did I love you？ Ask God. Ask yourself. Do you know？

    To hear that you love me， when you are far away，

    Is like hearing from heaven and never to go.

    Do not write！

    Do not write. I fear you. I fear to remember，

    For memory holds the voice I have often heard.

    To the one who cannot drink， do not show water，

    The beloved² one's picture in the handwritten word.

    Do not write！

    Do not write those gentle words that I dare³ not see，

    It seems that your voice is spreading them on my heart，

    Across your smile， on fire， they appear to me，

    It seems that a kiss is printing them on my heart.

    Do not write！

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