love

Whoever witnessed my rapture lost himself — however sober he came, he left intoxicated.

At night I remember you, O piece of the moon; by day I am helpless with pain and grief.

I have found nothing sweeter than the sound of love's words — the one legacy that endures beneath this turning dome.

Rise, my love, come for the sake of our heart — solve our trouble with your own beauty.

With a cypress-figure fresher than a harvest of roses, do not let go the cup of wine or the hem of the rose.

Whatever settles into the heart appears beautiful to the eye.

If one looks with the eye of denial, even the face of Joseph will seem flawed.

The world is love; all else is trickery — everything is a game, except the game of love.

Whoever becomes empty of love has withered; even with a hundred lives, without love he is dead.

Do not see the stars as counterfeit coiners — see instead your own love for the one who forges hearts, O noble ones.

Flee, O lord of death, from our disgrace — for you do not know how to become the color that we are.

First you must drink deep of the wine and grow intoxicated with joy; only once you lose yourself will you turn toward us.

Whoever drinks the red wine grows rich in fortune, and the heart's openness carries away the heaviness we bear.

From the lover's fire, O pure one, even hell itself grows weak and reasonable.

Every silence that wearies you is, on its other side, love itself crying out.