爱
He who wants to do good knocks at the gate;he who loves finds the gate open.
The mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.
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.
Once we dreamt that we were strangers. We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.
The perfect decks itself in beauty for the love of the Imperfect.