Your spirit is mingled with mine what touches you, touches me.
What hurts the soul? To live without tasting the water of its own essence.
Watch for all that beauty reflecting from you and sing a love song to your existence.
The day you were born, a ladder was set up to help you escape this world.
I, you, he, she, we In the garden of mystic lovers, these are not true distinctions.
The Past, the Future, O dear, is from you; you should regard both these as one.