Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date;
Sometimes too hot the eys of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair somethme declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Should man really be reincarnated,
Had the samsara of life truly occurred.
So my love, what in prior lives could we have been?
If you were a southern man of lotus-picking,
I could have been a lotus that your tanned arm is missing.
If you were a truant urchin,
I could have been a brand new hoodle;
Slipping through your pocket and in the grass by the road,
Peeping you far off but not in the know.
If you were a monk always meditating to face the wall;
I could have been an incense in front of the hall,
Burning for a serene time to accompany you.
Even though we've thus encountered in the present life,
Always lingering is a feel that our predestination
Has not fully fulfilled, but too vague to discern
And yet to detail you.