住在蜂房一两个月，是可悦的。但人们厌倦了芬芳的时光，又冷又甜，重复着公认的韵律，还有果汁和泡沫下那浓烈的紫色，酒在哪里?S的心已经爆裂;也不要觉得后一吻像前一吻。再一次，这可怜的一次;我不会祈祷，即使改变它的苦涩，苦涩的味道随之而来的甜蜜，让你的眼泪落在你柔软的头发，所有模糊和沉重的香水智慧在我的脸和眼睛。然而，谁又知道长着镰刀的小麦把它那愚蠢的罂粟做成了什么结局呢?嘴是红色的?这些没有播种，也没有收获，长了一个月，就被扔在脚下，没有人关心，就像没有人关心分开的爱情一样。我熟记你唇上的每一个影子，熟记你眼睑和眉毛上爱的每一次变化;白皙的鬓角随着柔嫩的血液和你喉咙的颜色颤抖; I know not how love is gone out of this, Seeing that all was his. Love?s likeness there endures upon all these: But out of these one shall not gather love. Day hath not strength nor the night shade enough To make love whole and fill his lips with ease, As some bee-builded cell Feels at filled lips the heavy honey swell. I know not how this last month leaves your hair Less full of purple colour and hid spice, And that luxurious trouble of closed eyes Is mixed with meaner shadow and waste care; And love, kissed out by pleasure, seems not yet Worth patience to regret.