Rose flower, body like honey. He rose garden, hair like night, hold the white snow of her swollen breasts. It brings snow, outside the door of snow two glasses of wine covered with white snow. Window of snow, in the window of white snow two valleys rose flaming, or two candles flaming two candles burning burning himself, to extinction. Two glasses of wine resonate in the clink, ardent wine I sipped. In autumn I felt your breasts, your honey, like fire in the summer and spring wind fell in my embrace, like bees in the sun poured into the wine of the night, as the rose gardens of the old kingdom of Persia sospinsero the human spirit in sky. But the flesh will never rise from Shiraz, for millennia, in the same way. Rose flower, your body is like honey.