The present is empty and sad,
O my friend, around us;
How little past remains!
And those who remain are all changing.
We do not see without envy anymore
The eyes of twenty years shine,
And how many are already lifeless
Eyes that have seen us grow!
How young is the hour,
Who never brings anything back!
Yet something remains:
I love you with my old heart,
My true heart, the one that attaches
And suffers since he was born,
My child's heart, the heart without stain
That my mother had given me;
This heart where nothing enters,
Hence no longer anything comes out;
I love you with what my being
A stronger against death;
And, if he can brave death itself,
If the best of the man is such
May nothing perish, I love you
With what I have immortal.
