When love fades away

I loved her in February

when the panoply of her amorous phrases

reverberated through my ears

I loved her in April

when Aeolus’s wind and spring showers

saturated our faces and produced tears

I loved her in June

when the vermillion streaks of sunset

gave her a translucent glow

I loved her in August

when her brusque and impatient mood

was part of an inveterate flow

I loved her in October

when autumn’s solemn leaves

disclosed her turgid composition

I loved her in December

when the cortège scurried near my door

and seemed to augur her diminution

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