If love be a plant, what would it need
To well grow and bloom? That's a mystery
Lingering on and on in every person's mind,
Ever since the beginning of human history.
Love needs feeds, we're told, as many a seed,
Soil, water, fertilizer, and sunlight bright.
Amid which, money is roof, power fertilizer, and
Fame its light. So could it grow strong, and peril-proof.
But if all these satisfy, in security and relief,
Can it still be love, as true and pure the same?
Love is not edible, no food at all, to our grief,
It's more like scent of a flower, to smell, but
Incapable of touch, to tend to, like a belief,
Delight or repulse or both in the same instant.
It's not a bank account put aside safe.
That's my observation, and is the motif.
Poem by Petite(Ning Hsin-erh)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem