What is love? - Common people stay away.

On the temple gate

, to discuss love, I cleansed my lips with sacred fire. I wanted to speak, but found myself mute.

Before I understood love, I could sing; when I understood love, the lyrics from my lips became weak breaths, and the song in my heart turned into deep silence.

In the past, you asked me, what is the wonder of love? I answered your questions, and you were all satisfied. Now, with a veil of love veiled over my eyes, I can only ask you about the characteristics of love. Who can answer me? Who can fathom my thoughts and reveal my soul to me?

A torch burns in my chest, devouring my vitality and melting my emotions. Who can tell me what kind of torch this is?

In moments of loneliness, a rough hand seizes my soul, pouring unbearable bitterness and delicious sweetness into my heart. Who can tell me whose giant hand this is?

In the still night, several wings flap beside my bed. I calmed myself, carefully observing this unfamiliar thing, listening intently to the strange sounds, pondering the incomprehensible, and deeply considering the unresolved questions. I sighed, a sigh containing pain and sorrow; for me, pain and sorrow outweighed joy and laughter. I succumbed to an invisible force; a force that brought me back to life time and time again. I didn't fall asleep until dawn broke. The shadows of my awakened self trembled between my weary eyelids; the illusions of my dreams swayed back and forth on my stone bed.

What is love, really?

Something invisible, hidden behind the years, beyond sight, dwelling in people's hearts—what is it? Tell me.

An absolute concept, producing all these causes and effects—what is it? Tell me.

An unnamed force, transforming life and death into a dream more wondrous than life, more profound than death—what is it? Tell me.

People, tell me: is there among you such a person, who, when the hand of Cupid touches his soul, remains unmoved, still asleep?

Are there any among you who, when their beloved calls their name, would not leave their parents and neighbors?

Are there any among you who would not cross oceans, traverse deserts, climb mountains, and pass through valleys to meet their sweetheart?

If their sweetheart were in the polar regions, with a pure soul, gentle nature, and sweet voice, which young man would not yearn for her?

When God answers prayers and grants every request, who would not willingly offer themselves as incense as a sacrifice before the altar?

Yesterday, I stood before the temple gate, asking passersby the secret of love.

A thin, middle-aged man walked past me. He sighed listlessly, saying: "Love is a gift from heaven, inherited from primitive people."

A robust, muscular young man walked past me. He murmured: "Love is a desire. It is inseparable from us, connecting our past, future, and present."

A woman with a sorrowful expression walked past me. She sighed and said: Love is a deadly poison. The black serpents of hell devour it, spew it across the sky, and then it falls as dew. Thirsty souls drink this poisonous dew, are intoxicated for a moment, awaken for a year, and then die forever.

A young girl with a face like a peach blossom walked past me. She smiled and said: Love is the water of the multifaceted river. The bride of dawn infuses it into strong souls, allowing them to rise, gather before the stars in the night sky, and bathe in the sunlight of day.

A long-bearded man dressed in black walked past me. He said with a sorrowful face: Love is a kind of folly, arriving with youth and disappearing with its passing.

A handsome, radiant man walked past me. He said excitedly: Love is a profound subject, opening our eyes; what the gods see, we also see.

A blind man walked past me. He used his cane to feel his way, weeping as he walked, saying: "Love is a thick fog, enveloping the heart layer by layer, obscuring the picturesque beauty of nature, so that one can only see one's own shadow flickering among the rocks, and hear only the echo of one's own cries from the deep valley."

A young man carrying a six-stringed guitar walked past me. He hummed a tune as he walked: "Love is a magical light, emanating from the depths of the soul, illuminating one's senses, making one see the world as a procession marching across a green meadow, making one realize that life is a daytime dream."

A hunchbacked old man, dragging his heavy steps, walked past me. His legs seemed to be faulty, and he said tremblingly: "Love is a lifeless corpse in the grave, a still soul in the eternal world."

A five-year-old child passed by me. He skipped and jumped, clapping his hands, laughing and shouting: "Love is my dad, love is my mom. The only ones in the world who understand love are my dad and my mom."

During the day, people walk past the temple gate, each discussing love according to their own understanding, everyone wanting to uncover the secrets of life, and freely expressing their wishes.

When night falls, no one comes or goes, but voices can be heard coming from inside the temple: "Life is two halves: one half is still and lifeless, the other half is burning fiercely; love is that burning half."

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What is love? - Common people stay away.

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