Love is too young to know what harmony is.
But who doesn't know that conscience is born of love?
So, gentle liar, please don't get me wrong,
Lest your sweet self prove my fault guilty:
Because, you betrayed me and I betrayed you.
My noble part betrayed my body;
My soul tells my body that he can
Victory in love; The body has no father's reason;
But, in your name, point out you.
As his victory prize. Proud of this pride,
He is content to do your poor hard work,
Stand in your business and fall beside you.
I have a clear conscience to say
Her "love", my dear love rises and falls.
Love God is too young to know what conscience is;
But who doesn't know that conscience is born of love?
So, good liar, don't pick on me,
Lest my sin implicate you gently.
Because, you betrayed me, my stupid body
Coax me into selling my noble part;
My soul tells my body that it can.
The victory of love; If the body doesn't keep silent,
Point out your name as soon as you hear it.
You are its victory; Too arrogant,
Be your meanest domestic slave,
Do whatever you want, or fall beside you.
So I can call her with a clear conscience.
I fell in love with her love during sex.
English poem 2: Ah, what power gives you this great power.
Swing with my heart?
In order for me to lie about my true vision,
Swear that light will not add luster to the day?
Where did you become so evil,
In your behavior,
With such strength and skill guarantee.
In my opinion, what's your worst and best?
Who taught you how to make me love you more?
The more I hear and see, the more I hate?
Well, although I like what others hate,
To others, you shouldn't hate my state:
If your unworthiness arouses my love,
I deserve your love more.
Oh, from what power do you get this power,
Even defects can dominate my mind?
Teach me to slander my reliable eyes and lies,
But deny that the sun brightens the day?
Why is this ability to turn rot into magic,
Make your ugly performance.
With flexible and powerful guarantee,
Let them, for me, surpass all the best?
Who taught you how to make me love you more,
When I heard and saw your abominations.
Oh, although I like things that others don't,
You shouldn't abandon me and unite with others;
Because the less cute you are, the more I love you.
You should think that I deserve your love more.
English poem 3 expressing love: canstchou, cruel! Say I don't love you,
When I object to sharing with you myself?
When I forget, am I not thinking about you?
I am myself, all tyrants, for you?
Who hates you, but I call it a friend?
Who am I flattering?
No, if you are on me, I won't spend it.
Revenge myself by moaning now?
What advantages do I respect about myself,
Your service is so proud and contemptuous,
When I try my best to worship your shortcomings,
Directed by the movements of your eyes?
But, love and hate, now I know your heart;
You love those who can see, but I am blind.
How can you, oh, cruel, deny that I love you,
When I work with you to disgust myself?
I won't miss you when I do it for you.
Completely forget yourself, oh, my violent Lord?
Have I made friends with people who hate you?
Have I ever been attentive to people you hate?
Not only that, when you frown at me,
Didn't I just sigh and hate myself?
What other advantages can I be proud of,
Too arrogant to serve and sacrifice for you,
Since my beauty worships your shortcomings,
Only your eyes are listening?
But, love, hate it, I have guessed you: