Short Poems

Wouldst thou teach me the truth? Don't take the trouble! I wish not,
Through thee, the thing to observe,--but to see thee through the thing.

Tell me all that thou knowest, and I will thankfully hear it!
But wouldst thou give me thyself,-let me, my friend, be excused!

The summer grasses
All that remains
Of brave soldiers dreams

The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere
They’re in each other all along.

'Sir, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool.
But you yourself may serve to show it,
Every fool is not a poet.'

Until you've found pain, you won't reach the cure
Until you've given up life, you won't unite with
the supreme soul
Until you've found fire inside yourself, like the Friend,
You won't reach the spring of life, like Khezr.

There is a natty kind of mind
That slicks its thoughts,
Culls its oughts,
Trims its views,
Prunes its trues,
And never suspects it is a rind.

Lands, gold, and trifles many give or lend:
But he that stoops in fame is a rare friend;
In friendship's orbe thou art the brightest starre,
Before thy fame mine thou preferrest far.

So much of what we live goes on inside–
The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches
Of unacknowledged love are no less real
For having passed unsaid. What we conceal
Is always more than what we dare confide.
Think of the letters that we write our dead.

Unravel your heart to the unfortunate people
You would be surprised to see the impact
You will have on them

They are looking for the kind of joy
Which is abundant in your heart
So please, unravel your heart to the unfortunate ones…