Summer and flowers

I loved you: love is still, perhaps,
In my heart I was not completely out;
But do not let it disturb you any more;
I do not want to sadden you with anything.
I loved you silently, hopelessly,
That timidity, then jealousy, we languish;
I loved you so sincerely, so tenderly,
How can God give you a beloved to be different.

Writer : Alexander Pushkin
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