Love sometimes wants to do us a great favor: hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out.
Your love
Should never be offered to the mouth of a stranger,
Only to someone who has the valor and daring
To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife
Then weave them into a blanket
To protect you.
Stay close to any sounds that make you glad you are alive.
Ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you.
I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in the darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.
There are different wells within your heart.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far too deep for that
Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living in better conditions.
Even after all this time the sun never says to the Earth, "You owe me"
There is no pleasure without a tincture of bitterness.
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Khwāja Šamsu d-Dīn Muḥammad Hāfez-e Šīrāzī, known by his pen name Hāfez (1325/26–1389/90)[1] was a Persian lyric poet.
