Chapter 789： 791 Sonnet

Chapter 789 791 Sonnet

If she doesn't eat sweets for half a month, she will die! !

"Song Yaoyao, this is not a discussion but an order."

Huo Yunque picked up the book again, and Song Wei's mouth was narrow, and he looked at the cover slantingly.

It is a sonnet of Shakespeare.

The rain fell on the glass of the flower room, ticking.

Song Yaoya was unwilling to say: "Then you are not allowed to come to my room for half a month!"

She raised her eyebrows triumphantly, and gave herself a compliment in her heart.

I'm really a little clever.

In the next second, Huo Yunque's big palm fell on top of her head, pressing her pride back.

"Deal."

The Huo family has more than one room.

Song Yaoyao: "..."

So angry!

She fluttered a few times in Huo Yunque's arms, her waist was pinched, and the man's tone was calm, with magic power that made people obediently obedient.

"Be good, read poems to you."

"Poem? Shakespeare?"

Song Yao was stunned, resting his head on the man's collarbone, turning his head to look.

Original documents, dense English fonts.

For Song Yaoyao, a thick book is unfamiliar and missed.

Before she died, her brother had just bought her Shakespeare's book.

The book of poems with Maple Leaf should still be on her bedside now. However, there is no chance in this life to open it by myself.

The surrounding flowers are clustered, and the air is filled with a light fragrance.

Huo Yunque combed her hair with his hand and gently stroked her hair.

Song Yaoya suddenly calmed down.

She rubbed his neck and looked up at the raindrops on the transparent glass. The thick curled eyelashes are slightly inflamed, like a butterfly fluttering.

The sound of rain mixed with the man's deep and magnetic voice, fermenting into a special romantic atmosphere.

Song Yaoyao hasn't read this poem, unfamiliar and novel.

My lover’s eyes are not sunny,

Coral is also far redder than her lips.

Her **** can’t be said to be pure and white,

There is no match for gold thread.

I have seen pink, red, and white roses,

But no one bloomed on her face.

There are many fragrant perfumes,

More intoxicating than my lover's breath.

Although I love to hear her whispers,

But I know that the better sound is the silk and bamboo orchestra.

I also admit that between my lover’s gestures,

Nothing reminds me of the heavens descending from the earth.

But God testifies, I think my love is really rare,

Not inferior to those pretentious confidantes.

...

The rain was getting heavier, and suppressed the man's low mutter.

But every sentence, every word, seemed to have life, lively through the ear canal, and jumped onto her heart.

Plop, plop, plop...

It seemed that the sound of pattering and rain couldn't suppress her heartbeat.

The man saw her reddish cheeks, as if stealing the sunset. Huo Yunque couldn't help laughing low, his chest vibrated slightly, and gently squeezed the back of her neck.

Song Yaoya hugged his neck and raised his eyes.

The small face is more delicate than the flower, and it concentrates on depicting the man's clean facial features.

Suddenly speak.

"ShallIcomparetheetoasummer\'sday"

Huo Yunque raised his eyebrows, and in his calm eyes, it seemed that a drop of rain fell into it, slowly rippling away.

Can I compare you to summer?

After a little startled, he couldn't help but laugh low.

"thank you."

Song Yaoya was buried in his arms, his cheeks hot.

But there was a girl in a little skirt in her heart, constantly spinning.

Excitedly about to die.

The most comfortable relationship in the world is probably what it is now.

Snuggle quietly on a rainy day, just a word, the other party can think of what you think.

No need to waste energy at all.

Can you compare you to the bright summer? You are more lovely and tender than the summer;

The strong wind ravaged May Huarui Jiaoyan, and summer hurriedly left without stopping.

The bright eyes in the sky are sometimes too hot, and the golden face is often clouded;

All beautiful images will inevitably fade, accidentally ruined or aged naturally.

And you are as luxuriant as midsummer without withering, and your graceful grace will always be graceful;

Death cannot force you to breathe dying, you will live and immortal poems.

As long as people can breathe and are not blind, this poem and you will live forever!

-Shakespeare

(End of this chapter)