I don't want the sincere gifts
You pretend to give me
As presents of your offering.
Give me what I'll love,
Grieving for it lost, twice
Over, for you and for me.

Better, promise me it without
Giving it, so the loss
Will be more in the hope
Than in the memory.

I'll take no more displeasure
Than in life's continuing,
Seeing that as days pass, what's
Hoped for is delayed, which is nothing.