I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, 
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet 
It burns so quietly within my soul, 
No longer should you feel distressed by it. 
Silently and hopelessly I loved you, 
At times too jealous and at times too shy. 
God grant you find another who will love you 
As tenderly and truthfully as I.

-Alexander Pushkin