In the deadly sweep Of every wave, A thousand dangers lie in wait.
The drop grows happy by losing itself in the river.
The world is no more than the Beloved's face. And the desire of the One to know its own beauty, we exist.
Consumed by the agony of remembrance The remembrance of night's festive company The one remaining candle flickers and dies.
The world is a playground -Indian
Whoever can't see the whole in every part plays at blind man's bluff. A wise man tastes the entire Tigris in every sip.