You wrote to me.
Don't deny it. I have read
The avowal of a trusting heart,

The outpouring of an innocent love;
Your candour touched me deeply.
It has stirred

Feelings long since dormant.
I won't commend you for this,
But I will repay you

With an equally guileless avowal.
Hear my confession,
Then judge me as you will!

If I had wished to pass my life
Within the confines of the family circle,
And a kindly fate had decreed for me

The role of husband and father,
Then, most like, I would not choose
Any other bride than you.

But I was not made for wedded bliss,
It is foreign to my soul,
Your perfections are vain,

I am quite unworthy of them.
Believe me; I give you my word,
Marriage would be a torment for us.

No matter how much I loved you,
Habit would kill that love.
Judge what a t^^&$#* bed of roses

Hymen would prepare for us,
And, perhaps, to be endured at length!
One cannot return to dreams and youth,

I cannot renew my soul!
I love you with a brother's love,
A brother's love

Or, perhaps, more than that!
Perhaps, perhaps more than that!
Listen to me without getting angry,

More than once will a girl exchange
One passing fancy for another.