A rosy cheeked girl passed by and said, smiling, “Love is a fountain whose waters the spirit brides pour into the spirits of the strong, making them to ascend in prayer among the stars of night and to sing songs of praise before the sun by day.”

A man passed by. His clothes were black, his beard long. Frowning, he said, “Love is blind ignorance. It begins at youth’s beginning and ends with its end.”

A handsome man with open features passed and gaily said, “Love is celestial knowledge that lights our eyes and shows us things as the gods see them.”

A blind man passed, tapping the earth with his cane, and weeping, he said, “Love is a thick mist enshrouding the soul on all sides and veiling the outlines of existence from it—or allowing it to see only the spectres of its desires wandering among the rocks, deaf to the sounds of its own cries echoing in the valley.”

A youth carrying a guitar passed and sang out, “Love is a magical ray of light shining out from the depths of the sensitive being and illuminating all around it. You see the world as a procession traveling through green meadows, life as a lovely dream erected between wakefulness and wakefulness.”

An old man passed. His back was bent, his feet dragged like pieces of cloth. In a quavering voice he said, “Love is rest for the body in the silence of the tomb, peace for the soul in the depths of eternity.”

A child of five years passed and laughed back to me, “Love is my father, love is my mother. Only my father and my mother know love.”

The day went by. The people passed before the temple, each describing himself as he spoke of love, revealing his hopes and telling of the mystery of life.

When evening came and the movement of passersby was stilled, I heard a voice from within the temple: “Life has two halves: one patient and one afire. Love is the fiery half.”

At that I entered the temple and bowed down in earnest, silent prayer, “Make me, O Lord, food for the flames. Consume me, O God, in the sacred fire. Amen.”

NIGHT SONGS

NIGHT SONGS

Silent is the night, but in the robe of silence
dreams lie waiting.
The moon rolls overhead.
Its watchful eyes observe
the passing days.

Let me take you,
daughter of the fields, to the
lovers’ vineyard.
The wine we press will quench the
fires of longing.

Can’t you hear the nightingale out in the fields
pour out melodies?

The breathing of the hills has filled
the sky, their breath
the scent of herbs

You need not fear, my love,
for never have the stars on high
told what they know.
Night’s thick mists swirl in these vineyards;
they will veil our secrets.

You need not fear the spirit bride
will come out from
her magic cave.
She lies in drunken sleep, unseen by all
save houris’ eyes.