“love”

——by-roy-croft

i-love-you，

not-only-for-what-you-are，

but-for-what-i-am

when-i-am-with-you。

i-love-you，

not-only-for-what

you-have-made-of-yourself，

but-for-what

you-are-******-of-me。

i-love-you

for-the-part-of-me

that-you-bring-out;

i-love-you

for-putting-your-hand

into-my-heaped-up-heart

and-passing-over

all-the-foolish，weak-things

that-you-can’t-help

dimly-seeing-there，

and-for-drawing-out

into-the-light

all-the-beautiful-belongings

that-no-one-else-had-looked

quite-far-enough-to-find。

i-love-you-because-you

are-helping-me-to-make

of-the-lumber-of-my-life

not-a-tavern

but-a-temple;

out-of-the-works

of-my-every-day

not-a-reproach

but-a-song。

i-love-you

because-you-have-done

more-than-any-creed

could-have-done

to-make-me-good

and-more-than-any-fate

could-have-done

to-make-me-happy。

you-have-done-it

without-a-touch，

without-a-word，

without-a-sign。

you-have-done-it

by-being-yourself。

perhaps-that-is-what

being-a-friend-means，

after-all。

译：《嗳》

---罗伊·克里夫特

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