Lover, stay longer.

Juliette's nightingale sings,

ignore Romeo's lark.

There are sides of our pillows

unused, let's not be wasteful.

Night's sweetest portion

pursued by twilight's cousin

improves our embrace

with her chilled breath, fanning

coals into flames, seeking fresh fuel.

Rake back the ashes

of sleep, rekindle our fire

with the vigor gained

by our short rest, which hones

the razor and softens hair.

Let the sun find us

entwined lovers, believing

us unseparated

during his absence, his orange

face greened, jealous of our heat.