[English original]
Verona
,
November 13th, 1796
I don't love you, NOT AL, ON THE CONTRARY, I DETEST you - You're A Naughty, Gawky, Foolish Cinderella. You Never Write Me, you don't love your husband; you know What pleasure your letters Give Me, And Yet You Haven't Written Him Six Lines, Dashed Off Casually!
What do you do all day, Madam? What is the affair so important as to leave you no time to your devoted lover? What affection stifles and puts to one side the love, the tender and constant love you promised him? Of what sort can be that marvelous being, that new lover who absorbs every moment, tyrannizes over your days, and prevents your giving any attention to your husband? Josephine, take care! Some fine night, the doors will be broken open, and there I will be.
Indeed, I am Very Uneasy, My Love, At Receiving No News of You; Write Me Quickly Four Pages, Pages Full of Agreeable Things Which Shall Fill My Heart with The Pleasantest Feelings.
I Hope Before long to crush you in my arms and cover you with a million kisses burning as wegh beneath the Equator.
Bonaparte
[Chinese translation]
I don't love you, don't love you at all; instead, I hate you - you are a naughty, clumsy, stupid Cinderella. You never write to me, you don't love your husband; you clearly know what happiness you believe in him, but you don't want to write six lines of words on the grass, even if you are very casual Six lines.
What are you doing all day, lady? What is going on so important, so that you can't write a little loyal lover? You have promised to give me gentle and loyal love, what kind of emotional suffocation and crowded it? Your wonderful figure, what kind of person is, it is, it takes you every minute, accounting for all your time, so that you don't have time to think about your husband? Josephfen, beware, maybe I will break in a beautiful night.
In fact, I am sitting uneasy because I don't have your message, my lover. Please write a four-page letter immediately, four pages full of tenderness, my heart will be full of happiness.
I hope that I can't take long before I can't take you tightly, and use it like the equatorial blood-like passionate to kiss you.
Poeta
1976
year
11
month
13
day
