This outward spring and garden are a reflection of the inward garden.
How should Spring bring forth a garden on hard stone? Become earth, that you may grow flowers of many colors. For you have been heart-breaking rock. Once, for the sake of experiment, be earth!
Those who don't feel this Love pulling them like a river, those who don't drink dawn like a cup of spring water or take in the sunset like supper, those who don't want to change, let them sleep on. This Love is beyond the study of theology, that old trickery and hypocrisy. If you want to improve your mind that way, sleep on. I've given up on my brain. I've torn the cloth to shreds and thrown it away. If you're not completely naked, wrap your beautiful robe of words around you, and sleep on
Nothing can help me but that beauty. There was a dawn I remember when my soul heard something from your soul. I drank water from your spring and felt the current take me.
Don't insist on going where you think you want to go. Ask the way to the spring.
We began as mineral. We emerged into plant life, and into the animal state, and then into being human, and always we have forgotten our former states, except in early spring when we slightly recall being green again.
Search, no matter what situation you are in. O thirsty one, search for water constantly. Finally, the time will come when you will reach the spring.
True beauty is a ray That springs from the sacred depths of the soul, and illuminates the body, just as life springs from the kernel of a stone and gives colour and scent to a flower.
In Winter the bare boughs that seem to sleep Work covertly, preparing for their Spring.
The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh.
A warm, rainy day-this is how it feels when friends get together. Friend refreshes friend then, as flowers do each others, in a spring rain.
Stars burn clear all night till dawn. Do that yourself, and a spring will rise in the dark with water your deepest thirst is for.
There is an unseen sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness. We are lutes. When the sound box is filled, no music can come forth. When the brain and the belly burn from fasting, every moment a new song rises out of the fire. The mists clear, and a new vitality makes you spring up the steps before you . . .
Weep like the waterwheel, that green herbs may spring up from the courtyard of your soul. If you wish for tears, have mercy on one who sheds tears; if you wish mercy, show mercy to the weak.
Every fragile beauty, every perfect forgotten sentence, you grieve their going away, but that is not how it is. Where they come from never goes dry. It is an always flowing spring.
What I most want is to spring out of this personality, then to sit apart from that leaping. I've lived too long where I can be reached.
True beauty is a ray that springs from the sacred depths of the soul.
If these poems repeat themselves, then so does Spring.
What is a tiny insignificant seed that, when Spring arrives, It should not be annihilated for a tree to arrive.
I drank water from your spring and felt the current take me.
Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love. In the depths there is a spring with all the water your heart is thirsty for.
If you become a helper of hearts, springs of wisdom will flow from your heart.
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