I don't love you

Take away your hand -- for I don't love you;

Because you have wished it, you are only a friend.

Your embrace is for other people,

Your dear kiss, your slumbering head.

Don't talk to me when it is evening

In that very low voice, for it is too intimate;

And especially don't give me your handkerchief:

It holds too much of the scent I love.

Tell me of your loves -- for I don't love you,

Tell me of your most intoxicating moment.

And if she loved you well, or if she was ungrateful,

In telling me, don't be charming --

I haven't cried, I haven't suffered,

It was only a dream -- a kind of madness.

It is enough to see your clear eyes,

With neither the regret of evening nor melancholy.

It is enough to see your joy,

It is enough to see your smile.

Tell me how she stole your heart,

And tell me especially what shouldn't be told.

No, rather be silent... I am on my knees.

The fire has gone out, the door is closed.

Don't ask me anything, I'm crying... that's all.

I don't love you, oh my beloved!