Translation:

I’m giving happiness another chance, but this time without you. Seek your own happiness; leave me alone and never bother to think of me. A long time ago we were able to light the fire of passion, but all that is behind us… love left to die is never again to be had.

Translation:

I don’t understand why you’ve said that you’ve seen it in my eyes that I’ve been crying for you. No matter how teary-eyed I may seem to you, rest assured that it has nothing to do with losing you. I gave you proof of this tonight. You spent the night with somebody else just to hurt my feelings. But instead of getting upset, as you had expected, I looked the other way and I bursted in laughter.

If I ever cry, don’t go thinking it has to do with your love, which I’ve already lost. That’s no longer worthy of tears. I’ve cried enough thinking that one day you’d come to forget me. At that time I’d cry, but I’m through with that: I no longer cry for your heart.

But I do remember the moments when you’d tell me that you loved me with all the endearment of your heart. But don’t go thinking that I was foolish enough to allow you to conquer my soul. I’ve never loved you — why would I deny this? — and now I want nothing to do with you.

Truth be told, at one time I’d get jealous upon seeing you with somebody else. This because mine was the warmth of of your lips, and yours were the thousands of kisses that came from mine.

I never thought I’d one day cry over a lost love. Prior to losing you, I still hadn’t come to know pain. I felt an agony when I saw you walk away without even bothering to give me a farewell kiss. I almost died of sorrow, but I’m over that.

Now, when I cry, rest assured it has nothing to do with you. Your heart is no longer worthy of my tears. I cried enough just thinking that one day you’d forget me. And now that it’s been done, I want nothing to do with you.

Translation:

Gathered around the table, filled with sadness, my children and I stare at the empty chair. I know that with your infamy and unfaithfulness your life was ruined; but so was theirs and mine. Sometimes they ask where you are, and it hurts that I have to lie, telling them that you’re in heaven; that from up there you can see us; that while you were alive you loved us immensely; that you were a saint. I had to lie to them in order to spare them the pain. I could not tell them the truth, that you dared to abandon your home and your children for another lover.

Sometimes they ask if you’re in heaven, and I bite my lips as I say that you are. By God, sometimes I’m filled with jealousy knowing that they love you, much more than they love me. Except the eldest. He knows of your unfaithfulness, and lowers his eyes so that they won’t meet mine. He never enters your room, nor does he call your name. He loves to isolate himself from others… far, far from others. I see our youngest daughter running around the house, with her childish smile and innocent joy. She suddenly stops to hug and kiss you, but all she touches is the empty chair.