Live now, believe me, wait not till tomorrow; Gather the roses of life today.

When you are old, at evening candlelit, Beside the fire bending to your wool, Read out my verse and murmur, "Ronsard writ This praise for me when I was beautiful.

My guitar, I sing of thee 'Tis with thee that I decoy And ensnare enchantingly the ladies I enjoy.

Thousands and thousands of colors paint the bosom of the earth so gaily.

Gather, gather your youth: Just like this flower, old age Your beauty will wither.

Love wants everything without condition, love has no law.

Gather the roses of life today.