Let not the hours pass by in the dark. Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.
Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight whose breath touches my sleep?
The echo mocks her origin to prove she is the original.
Days are coloured bubbles that float upon the surface of fathomless nights.
And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well.
The Taj Mahal rises above the banks of the river like a solitary tear suspended on the cheek of time.