I plucked some fruits of her eyes

I plucked some fruits of her eyes
And load them in the basket of my heart,
They’re weird and heavy. Oh Venus!
Everyone knows how to love,
but never try to know how to terminate it.

Drinking a red wine means I love her so much!
Playing a guitar means I love her so much!
Writing a poem means I love her so much!
Kissing every part of her sculpture means I love her so much!
Please stop so much talking because I love her so much!!

There is a death at the end of a life,
I knew, she knew but
we forgot to remind each other.
That’s where the story started.
She died, Venus should die, I really wanna die.
But everybody doesn’t let me do this and thus
she can only keep plucking
every fruit of my own eyes . . . . . . .