Love-Letter Written By Franz Kafka

Love-Letter Written By Franz Kafka :

11 November - 1912

Fraulein Felice!

I am now going to ask you a favour which sounds quite crazy and which I should regard as such were I the one to receive the letter. It is also the very greatest test that even the kindest person could be put to. Well, this is it.

Write to me only once a week... So that your letter arrives on Sunday – for I cannot endure your daily letters. I am incapable of enduring them. For instance… I answer one of your letters and then lie in bed in apparent calm. But my heart beats through my entire body and is conscious only of you. I belong to you. There is really no other way of expressing it and that is not strong enough. But for this very reason I don’t want to know what you are wearing, it confuses me so much that I cannot deal with life and that is why I don’t want to know that you are fond of me. If I did, how could I, fool that I am, go on sitting in my office or here at home, instead of leaping onto a train with my eyes shout and opening them only when I am with you? Oh, there is a sad, sad reason for not doing so. To make it short… my health is only just good enough for myself alone, not good enough for marriage, let alone fatherhood. Yet when I read you letter, I feel I could overlook even what cannot possibly be overlooked.

If only I had your answer now! And how horribly I torment you and how I compel you in the stillness of your room to read this letter as nasty a letter as has ever lain on your desk! Honestly, it strikes me sometimes that I prey like a specter on your felicitous name! If only I had mailed Saturday’s letter in which I implored you never to write to me again and in which I gave a similar promise. Oh god, what prevented me from sending that letter? All would be well. But is a peaceful solution possible now? Would it help if we wrote to each other only a week? No… if my suffering could be cured by such means… it would not be serious. And already I foresee that I shan’t be able to endure even the Sunday letters. And so, to compensate for Saturday’s lost opportunity, I ask you with what energy remains to me at the end of this letter… if we value our lives, let us abandon it all.

Did I think of singing myself Dein? No… nothing could be more false. No… I am forever fettered to myself that is what I am and that is what I must try to live with.


Love-Letter Written By Franz Kafka

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