Another early Sunday evening has arrived.
You, you are gone, abroad;
I sit here by myself and drink coffee.
Tonight, instead of us sharing our dinner together,
I write verse about how much I miss you.
The notion, that adage about absence making
The heart grow fonder is nonsense.
To me, it amounts to no more than a hill of beans! *
I am no fonder, no fonder of you than I was
Ten minutes ago at the start of this poem.
Today I am no fonder of you than I was yesterday,
No fonder of you than I was last week,
Than I was seven weeks ago,
When you departed on business,
Left me in this big, old town, alone.
During that time, since then, my love,
My love for you has not grown even an iota.
Tonight I am simply sad.
I am lonely.
I feel terrible without you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem