To Oak
Author: Shu Ting
If I love you-
never like a climbing trumpet creeper, I will
show off with your high branches;
if I love you-
never learn from infatuated birds,
repeat monotonous songs for the green shade;
not just like a fountain,
sent all the year round Cool comfort;
not only like a dangerous peak, it
increases your height and sets off your majesty.
Even sunlight,
even spring rain.
No, these are not enough!
I must be a kapok near
you, standing with you as a tree.
The roots are firmly in the ground; the
leaves are touching in the clouds.
Every gust of wind passed,
we greeted each other,
but no one
understood our words.
You have your copper branches and iron trunks,
like knives, swords, and halberds;
I have my red flowers,
like heavy sighs
and heroic torches.
We share the cold wave, wind and thunder, and the thunderbolt;
we share the mist, the flow of rain, and the rainbow.
It seems to be separated forever,
yet dependent on each other for life.
This is the great love,
and the steadfastness is here:
love-
not only loves your stalwart body,
but also the position you insist on,
the land under your feet.