Stary birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of aurumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.

O troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.

The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. It becomes small as on song, as one kiss of the eternal.

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It is the tears of the earth that keep her smiles in bloom.

Tje mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.

If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.

The sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water. Will you carry the burden of their lameness?

Her wistful face haunts my dreams like the rain at night.

Once we dreamt that we were strangers. We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.

Sorrow is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.

Some unseen fingers, like an idle breeze, are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples.

"What language is thine, O sea?"
"The language of eternal question."
"What language is thy answer, O sky?"
"The language of eternal silence."