I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.

I wonder what the vintners buy one half so precious as the stuff they sell.

In monasteries, seminaries, retreats and synagogues, they fear hell and seek paradise. Those who know the mysteries of God never let that seed be planted in their souls.

I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.

He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.

I came like Water, and like Wind I go.

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so wisely - they are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scattered, and their mouths are stopped with Dust.