“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?  Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy, that one short minute gives me in her sight.  Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.  Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move his aides, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love”, by Shakespeare.

 

I do not judge; I am not a liar

I observed and learned the purest love from a simple moth and fire

Imagine a peaceful sunset, a heart-warming campfire

The soothing sound of the breaking waves washing over

The shore on the most beautiful beach of your dream isle

Newly born, unaware that he is already a goner

Driven into his beloved’s bosom at full ardor

Engulfed and burned instantly by the flames, a single crackle

Resolute until the end, far from a crier
 

We make up our minds beforehand generally

To the sort of person we should bond with passionately

When we meet a complete example of the qualities we admire

Love at first sight is not as absurd as it may initially appear

It has one ephemeral favor which will delay a second survey

Allowing a dangerous liaison to seize time forever

And make one believe he is reborn as an immortal

It is an unusual household for three, a “ménage à trois”

C’est “la vie en rose” “déjà vue” with a “je ne sais quoi”
 

The Look of Love.

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