Someone Who Does Not Run Toward The

Nightingales Are Put In Cages Because Their Songs Give Pleasure. Whoever Heard Of Keeping A Crow?

Be Occupied, Then, With What You Really Value And Let The Thief Take Something Else.

My Place Is Placeless, A Trace Of The Traceless.

When The Rose Is Gone And The Garden Faded You Will No Longer Hear The Nightingale's Song. The Beloved Is All; The Lover Just A Veil. The Beloved Is Living; The Lover A Dead Thing. If Love Withholds Its Strengthening Care, The Lover Is Left Like A Bird Without Care, The Lover Is Left Like A Bird Without Wings. How Will I Be Awake And Aware If The Light Of The Beloved Is Absent? Love Wills That This Word Be Brought Forth.

Close The Language-door, And Open The Love-window