'Hate needs heat on which to thrive,
Hot passion's fire and angry desire,
Cold cannot make it come alive,
But chills its heart and makes it die.'
So sang a pebble in a pond,
Cooled by water from the brook,
But an ember dying in the fire
Glowed anew and answered back:
'Hate needs not heat on which to thrive,
A cold heart hates without desire,
No warmth can make it come alive,
Its passion chills and has no fire.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem