Flowers bloom in fields as the winds are hot, thick,
humid, sun-warm, full of the buzzing, swift bees;
time is not enduring for man, O love;soon lost are our sweet dreams.
Kisses pass like breezes on skin: when had, lost,
stolen -- time is thieving and cruel; delay harms,
guarantees hope's death and our love's undoing. Sweetest of maids, hear!
Give, my lady, more; let love with speed join us;
draw eye to eye, lip to lip, breath to breath,
soul to soul, with swift knots.