Could You Tell Me What Is Love

Could you tell me what is love?
The love of a real life
It is name, status, income and vanity.
Or it is just a cheating game.

Could you tell me what is love?
The love of a natural world
It is hormone, chromosome, strength and genaration.
Or it is just a violent competition.

Could you tell me what is love?
The love of men
It is flower, care, twittering and victor.
Or it is just a vast devouring flame,
which comsumed its own energy resistlessly.

Could you tell me what is love?
The love of women
It is concealed, disowned and step by step,
Which watches the nest of her affection.
Till shed upon the tomb of her love,
In noiseless constancy.

PS: I don’t know why I wrote these stupid words.
May be I never, in a corner of my heart, give up my belief.

That is over…

I don’t know how to discribe my mixture feelings.  The last week I experienced an unbelivable period.  I can’t imagine the same experience againe and don’t wanna do that.  A good skill of humans is to memorize but I, currently, choose to forget.  Forget, forever…

Flier

This is all a fleeting dream,
  For my illusion given;
But the smiles of joy, like the flame on glory’s wing,
As love, and hope, and beauty’s bloom,
  Are blossoms for you, for you and me.
 
Poor wanderers were driven,
  For fancy’s flash to light;
But the tears of woe, in my heart, in my soul,
As the reason for fading hues of even,
  Are wishes for you, for you and me.
 
Hope is a thing with feathers,
  For songs without the words, at all;
But sweetest sayings, like the poems of Shelley’s ,
As my heart, in the shadow of your eyes,
  Are prayers for you, for you and me.