My heart, the bird of the wilderne… They are the cradle of the morning… My songs are lost in their depths. Let me but soar in that sky, in it… Let me but cleave its clouds and s…

O Fool, try to carry thyself upon… O beggar, to come beg at thy own d… Leave all thy burdens on his hands… and never look behind in regret. Thy desire at once puts out the li…

Take back your coins, King’s Coun… sent to the forest shrine to decoy… seen a women. I failed in your bid… Dimly day was breaking when the he… the stream, his tawny locks crowde…

Love adorns itself; it seeks to prove inward joy by ou… Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom. Love is an endless mystery,

Let your work be, bride. Listen,… Do you hear, he is gently shaking… See that your anklets make no loud… Let your work be, bride, the guest… No, it is not the ghostly wind, br…

Hands cling to hands and eyes ling… It is the moonlit night of March;… This love between you and me is si… Your veil of the saffron colour ma… The jasmine wreath that you wove m…

She dwelt on the hillside by the edge of a maize-field, near the spring that flows in laughing rills through the solemn shadows of ancient trees. The women came there to fill their jar...

He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep… He it is who puts his enchantment… and joyfully plays on the chords o… in varied cadence of pleasure and…

Yes, I know, this is nothing but… O beloved of my heart——this golden… these idle clouds sailing across t… this passing breeze leaving its co… The morning light has flooded my e…

If thou speakest not I will fill… I will keep still and wait like th… and its head bent low with patienc… The morning will surely come, the… and thy voice pour down in golden…

“Ah, poet, the evening draws near; your hair is turning grey.” “Do you in your lonely musing hear the message of the hereafter?” “It is evening,” the poet said, “and I am listening beca...

Then finish the last song and let… Forget this night when the night i… Whom do I try to clasp in my arms… My eager hands press emptiness to…

O you mad, you superbly drunk! If you kick open your doors and pl… If you empty your bag in a night,… If you walk in curious paths and p… Reck not rhyme or reason;

Mother, the light has grown grey i… the time is. There is no fun in my play, so I… Saturday, our holiday. Leave off your work, mother; sit h…

Why do you sit there on the floor… mother dear? The rain is coming in through the… wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four…