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 (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).