加载中...

Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.

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

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

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.

The little flower lies in the dust. It sought the path of the butterfly.

Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.

O Beauty, find thyself in love, not in the flattery of thy mirror.

The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night—it is great. Delusions of knowledge are like the fog of the morning.

Do not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high.

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.

We come nearest to the great when we are great in humility.

I cannot choose the best. The best chooses me.

I sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment, nods to me and goes.

What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow.

We live in this world when we love it.

Let my love, like sunlight, surround you and yet give you illumined freedom.

The world has kissed my soul with its pain, asking for its return in songs.

You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.

The night kissed the fading day whispering to his ear, 'I am death, your mother. I am to give you fresh birth.'

Don't because you are happy, forget the friend who owes you nothing but shares your happiness.

In love, the side-by-side is more sacred than the meeting.

The earth laughs in flowers.

This city is built to music, therefore it is not built in stone but in the song that never ends.

I heard the rustling of the stars in the sky. They are not silent, but sing for you.

We read the world wrong and say that it deceives us.

Let not the sword-blade mock its handle for being blunt.

Man is worse than an animal when he is an animal.

Look into the mirror of your own heart; the face that you see there... is the one you should trust.

The bird wishes it were a cloud. The cloud wishes it were a bird.

The cloud stood humbly in a corner of the sky. The morning crowned it with splendour.

By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.

The dry river-bed finds no thanks for its past.

The real with its meaning read wrong and emphasis misplaced is the unreal.

That which ends in exhaustion is death, but the perfect ending is in the endless.

The scabbard is content to be dull when it protects the keenness of the sword.

The meaning of the world is in your own heart; you cannot buy it from the world.

Let me think that there is one among those stars that guides my life through the dark unknown.

The glass of your soul is bright. It is the glass of the world.

The night opens the flowers in secret and allows the day to get thanks.

Words love the leaf of the tree, but they must leave it when the sun shines.

The mist, like love, plays upon the heart of the hills and brings out surprises of beauty.

I see the boat of my desire, lost in the wilderness of waves.

I feel that the beauty is not in the rose but in my own heart... I carry the ocean in my being.

Do not blame the food because you have no appetite.

I am the autumn rain, whose drops are the tears of the sky shed for the earth's longing.

The night's silence, like a deep lamp, is burning with the light of its stars.

The hills are like shouts of children who raise their arms, trying to catch stars.

I think of other ages that floated upon the stream of life and love and death and are forgotten, and I feel the freedom of passing away.

Leave out my name from the gift if it be a burden, but keep my song.