My writing will be brief
for you were the one who always wrote for me.
But my dear, where is it that you have gone?
You always run off, but when you return I never
ask you where it is you had gone.
Without regret, I must inform you
that I am having an affair.
I have met a sweet thing named Happiness.
I would not blame you if you did not return.
And I really hope that it might be so;
but I know you would never leave me.
Not after all these years.
Isn’t that right,
my dear?