I slept in thine hair my dove\'s,
But for dews retained by beak.
No divining who is meek,
For so one on edge of love.
Dragging back and forth in shreds,
The young turns, and sighs und\'r lead.
What allusions to some luck!
With belief in heart he jumps.
Nothing happens in the real,
While in night one paints a hug.
Since there\'s no affective drug,
Let great Laz\'ness cost his dream.
Seductive fair-skinned nymph,
I hereby play my hymn.