Who will believe my poems in the future?
If it is filled with your highest virtues?
Although, God knows, it is only a cemetery,
Buried with your life and half of who you are.
If I can write about your beautiful eyes,
Count your beauty with fresh rhythm,
Future ages will say: "This poet lies:
How could such talent be found in the human world! "
So my poetry album was yellowed by the years...
——Shakespeare
Concept: It's not dark yet, but the stars and moon are already hanging in the sky. They look beautiful, but in fact they no longer exist.