To feel the same passion, the memories of which still set my heart ablaze...
To feel the eagerness for the first glimpse of his face...
To feel the deep depression of having to leave without seeing him...
To feel the restlessness, the hope, the bitterness, the sweetness edging to ecstasy...
To feel my heart my heart flutter...
To feel that death is better than this hidden love...
To read Turgenev and feel utterly broken...
To have him fill my thoughts during the day and dreams during sleep...
Ah! Memories of first love still sets my heart ablaze...
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