I will be the most tender, I will be able to prove to you
that I could bring myself to wait an eternity for you.
I could defend myself against an army
to better love you—to better love you.
I will learn every role, I will be at once
the happiest, the most amusing— I will have at times
the sadness of a weeping willow or merely its beauty
to better love you—to better love you.
I will be the same and different every day—
alternately loving and rejecting your love.
I will use caresses that have been forgotten—
I will be your mistress or your fiancée,
a courtesan or a princess as you wish
to better love you—to better love you.
I will be strong or weak but always just to win—
your faithful companion, your damned soul.
I will be everyone who has ever loved you
to better love you—to better love you.
And if you are God, I will perform miracles.
If you are the devil, I will choose your hell.
I will erase the memory of great lovers of the past:
Romeo and Juliet will be outdone.
I will invent poets to sing our praises
to better love you—to better love you.
And if I condemn myself, it is only to tame you.
If I abandon my body and soul to you—
it is very simply to be your wife.
I love you so—I love you so.
I love you so.
I love you so.
I love you so.