Is it a greater pleasure to watch you make love to others
Or to make love to you myself?
I carry a cross on my shoulder
You bear to the altar the perfume of wild flowers.
Is it better to have loved, and never to have spoken
Or is it better to have spoken, and watched that love droop with the years?
You say that I love you, I say I will always love you a little less
So that tomorrow I can love you a little more.

Man loves only once in his life, and he never recognizes it
And when he is past his prime he finds a name for it
And searches for it in others, but it never returns.

~scio