Then, anger
was a crease in the brow
and silence
a catastrophe.
Then, making up
was a mutual smile
and a glance
a gift.
Now, just look at this mess
that you’ve made of that love.
You grovel at my feet
and I berate you
and can’t let my anger go.
Amaru
Amaru (c. seventh century A.D.), Kashmirian king, compiler, author of some of the poems in the anthology which bears his name. translated from the Amaruataka by Martha Ann Selby, vs. 38, Motilal Banarsidass (1983).