Hormuz L'isola arcobaleno

If you find the mirror of the heart dull, the rust has not been cleared from its face.

I am neither of the East nor of the West, no boundaries exist within my breast.

The rose and the thorn, and sorrow and gladness are linked together.

People are crying up the rich and variegated plumage of the peacock, and he is himself blushing at the sight of his ugly feet.

Why should I be unhappy? Every parcel of my being is in full bloom.

The gifts of lovers to one another are, in respect to love, nothing but forms; yet, they testify to invisible love.

May this marriage be full of laughter, our every day in paradise.

Your depression is connected to your insolence and refusal to praise.

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.

Something opens our wings. Something makes boredom and hurt disappear. Someone fills the cup in front of us: We taste only sacredness.

You left and I cried tears of blood. My sorrow grows. Its not just that You left. But when You left my eyes went with You. Now, how will I cry?

This is the essence of all sciences - that you should know who you will be when the Day of Reckoning arrives.