They didn’t bring me a letter today:

He forgot to write, or he went away;

Spring is like a trill of silver laughter,

Boats are rocking in the bay.

They didn’t bring me a letter today…

He was still with me just recently,

So much in love, affectionate and mine,

But that was white wintertime.

Now it is spring, and spring’s sadness is poisonous.

He was still with me just recently …

I listen: the light, trembling bow of a violin,

Like the pain before death, beats, beats,

How terrible that my heart will break

Before these tender lines are complete…