How can I compare you to summer?
You are not only cuter than it, but also gentler:
The strong wind tramples the tender pistils loved by May,
The rental period in summer is too short:
Sometimes the eyes of heaven shine too brightly,
Its dazzling golden face is often covered up:
Destroyed by chance or the impermanence of heaven,
No beauty will eventually wither or be destroyed.
But your long summer will never wither,
Nor will I lose your bright red fragrance,
Or Death boasts that you wander in his shadow,
When you live with time in immortal poetry.
As long as there are humans, or humans have eyes,
This poem will last forever and give you life.
Milan street painter × Son of God Kaka
"The brush in my hand is Raphael's brush, which can paint you in your best years."
"There is no such thing as Raphael's brush. All I have is my love for you."