Love follows the same cadences of the seasons.
It begins in a powerful and inebriating way,
inflames itself and is fruitful all through the summer,
gets weaker, gathering its fruits in autumn,
and, under the layer of the memories
of the past, lived seasons,
falls asleep in the winter’s oblivion
and in the silence of the emotions.
But the chance that it may be revived again
strong and hearty in a new spring,
depends on the kind of food has kept it alive
and the kind of fruits that has produced
during the past and active seasons,
so that the inevitable winter of the sensations,
may only be a sleep and not a death.