O P A L

You are ice and fire.
The touch of you burns my hands like snow.
You are cold and flame.
You are the crimson of amaryllis,
The silver of moon-touched magnolias.
When I am with you,
My heart is a frozen pond
Gleaming with agitated torches.

Amy Lowell

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When you came, you were like red wine
and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth
with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant.
I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.

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àÇçºä«·ì·ÕèÃǺÃÇÁº·¡Çբͧ Amy Lowell
* www.nagasaki-gaigo.ac.jp/ishikawa/amlit/l/lowell_a20.htm
* www.everypoet.com/archive/poetry/Amy_Lowell/Amy_Lowell_contents.htm