(Based on the Swedish).
La bienséance est la moindre de toutes les loix & la plus svivie.
I’m often glad, although I feel like weeping;
For no heart shares the joy in my sole keeping.
I’m often sorrowful, though laugh with glee,
So no one all my frightened tears may see.
I often love, although I feel like sighing;
For my heart needs be mute and hid from prying.
I’m often angry, though must wear a smile;
For those who anger are but fools that rile.
I often burn, yet in such heat I shiver;
The world’s embrace is like an ice-cold river,
I’m often cold, yet sweat stands on my brow;
For many tasks lack love it seems somehow.
I often speak, though would refrain from prating,
Where mindeless words for thought need not be waiting.
I’m often dumb, and would to ease my breast
Have thund’rous voice when it is most oppressed.
Oh! You alone who can my joy be sharing,
You at whose bosom I can weep uncaring,
Oh! dearest, if you knew me, loved me true,
I could be always as I am – with you.