"If I love you— I never behave like a climbing trumpet vine Using your high branches to show myself off; If I love you— I never mimic infatuated little birds Repeating monotonous songs into the shadows, Nor do I look at all like a wellspring Sending out its cooling consolation all year round, Or just another perilous crag Augmenting your height, setting off your prestige. Nor like the sunlight Or even spring rain. No, these are not enough. I would be a kapok tree by your side Standing with you— both of us shaped like trees. Our roots hold hands underground, Our leaves touch in the clouds. As a gust of wind passes by We salute each other And not a soul Understands our language. You have your bronze boughs and iron trunk Like knives and swords, Also like halberds; I have my red flowers Like heavy sighs, Also like heroic torches. We share cold waves, storms and thunderbolts; Together we savor fog, haze and rainbows. We seem to always live apart, But actually depend upon each other forever. This has to be called extraordinary love. Faith resides in it: Love— I love not only your sublime body But the space you occupy, The land beneath your feet."