In your beauty, how to make poems.

I want your sun to reach my raindrops, so your heat can raise my soul upward like a cloud.

In the house of lovers, the music never stops, the walls are made of songs & the floor dances

Innumerable changes of moods are yours, and they are uncontrolled by you. If you knew their origin, you would be able to dominate them. If you cannot localize your own changes, how can you localize that which formed you?

Those who practice Love have neither Religion or Status.

Botha swimmer and a drowned man are in the water; the latter is borne by the water and controlled by it, while the swimmer is borne along by his own power and of his own volition. Every movement made by the drowned man - indeed, every act and word that issue from him - comes from the water, not from him... The saints are like this. They have died before death.

O Love, O pure deep Love, be here, be now, be all.