The purpose and the goal of all my love
Is happiness - both yours and mine, my dear -
And I would make our lives the image of
That joy that Plato heard sing from the sphere.
I would, if it were possible, ensure
No cloud of sorrow every crossed your face,
And if it did, I'd wish to be its cure
So that my presence could its fault erase.
I want, my darling, to be good to you:
To do whatever it may be you need.
And if there's something that I cannot do
By some strange evil fate somehow decreed,
I'd like to make you happy anyway
By doing all the other things I may.
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