Love demands patience, desire is restless; What color shall I paint the heart, until you savage it? You shall not ignore me when the time comes, I know, but I may turn to dust before the news reaches you.

Consumed by the agony of remembrance The remembrance of night's festive company The one remaining candle flickers and dies.

The world is no more than the Beloved's face. And the desire of the One to know its own beauty, we exist.

This earth, burnished by hearing the name, is so certain of love,
that the sky bends unceasingly down, to greet its own light.

The world is a playground -Indian

If there is a knower of tongues here, fetch him; There's a stranger in the city And he has many things to say.

I asked my soul: What is Delhi? She replied: The world is the body and Delhi its life!