Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream

Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.

Ay me! For aught that I could every read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood-

Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus.
Now I am dead,
Now I am fled,
My soul is in the sky.
Tongue, lose thy light.
Moon take thy flight.
Now die, die, die, die.

Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.

Aşk bir çocuktur derler ya, nedeni budur işte,
Öyle çok yanılır ki yaptığı seçimlerde.