I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night. Till it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine. And into my garden stole, When the night had veild the pole; In the morning glad I see; My foe outstretched beneath the tree. BY WILLIAM BLAKE
If I love you -- I will never be a clinging trumpet creeper Using your high boughs to show off my height f I love you -- I will never be a spoony bird Repeating a monotonous song for green shade Or be a spring Bringing cool solace all year long Or be a steep peak Increasing your stature, reflecting your eminence Even the sunlight Even the spring rain No, all these are not enough I must be a ceiba tree beside you Be the image of a tree standing together with you Our roots, entwined underground Our leaves, touching in the clouds With each gust of wind We greet each other But nobody Can understand our words You'll have your copper branches and iron trunk Like knives, like swords, like halberds, too I'll have my crimson flowers Like heavy sighs And valiant torches We'll share cold spells, storms and thunder We'll share mists, hazes and rainbows Seemingly always apart But also forever interdependent Only this can be great love The loyalty is here Love -- I love not only your strapping stature But also your firm stand, the earth beneath you BY SHU TING