If I love you - I will never be like a climbing flower, using your high branches to show off myself: If I love you - I will never imitate the infatuated bird, repeating a monotonous song for the green shade; nor is it just like a spring, bringing cool comfort all year round; nor is it like a dangerous peak, increasing your height and setting off your majesty. Even daylight. Even spring rain. No, these are not enough! I must be a kapok tree near you, standing with you as the image of a tree. The roots are clenched in the ground, and the leaves are touching in the clouds. Every time the wind passed by, 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 like heroic torches. We share cold waves, wind and thunder, and thunderbolts; I also love the position you insist on, the ground beneath your feet.