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

And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sign.

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

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The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover.

It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.

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

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

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

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

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

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Once we dreamt that we were strangers.

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

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

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

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What language is thine, O sea?

The language of eternal question.

What language is thy answer, O sky?

The language of eternal silence.

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Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.

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The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night--it is great.

Delusions of knowledge are like the fog of the morning.£±£µ

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

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

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There little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; they have their whisper of joy in my mind.

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

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My wishes are fools, they shout across thy song, my Master.

Let me but listen.

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I cannot choose the best.

The best chooses me.