dasht-e-tanhā.ī meñ ai jān-e-jahāñ larzāñ haiñ terī āvāz ke saa.e tire hoñToñ ke sarāb dasht-e-tanhā.ī meñ duurī ke ḳhas o ḳhaak tale khil rahe haiñ tire pahlū ke saman aur gulāb Uth rahī hai kahīñ qurbat se tirī saañs kī aañch apnī ḳhushbū meñ sulagtī huī maddham maddham duur ufuq paar chamaktī huī qatra qatra gir rahī hai tirī dildār nazar kī shabnam is qadar pyaar se ai jān-e-jahāñ rakkhā hai dil ke ruḳhsār pe is vaqt tirī yaad ne haat yuuñ gumāñ hotā hai garche hai abhī sub.h-e-firāq Dhal gayā hijr kā din aa bhī ga.ī vasl kī raat In the wastelands of solitude, my love, the echoes of your voice quiver, the mirages of your lips waver. In the deserts of alienation, out of the expanses of distance and isolation's debris the fragrant jasmines and roses of your presence delicately blossom. Now from somewhere nearby, the warmth of your breath rises, smoldering forth an exotic perfume―gently, languorously. Now far-off, across the distant horizon, drop by shimmering drop, fall the gli...
Come as you are, forget appearances! Is your hair untamable, your part uneven, your bodice unfastened? Never mind. Come as you are, forget appearances! Skip with quicksilver steps across the grass. If your feet glisten with dew, if your anklets slip, if your beaded necklace slides off? Never mind. Skip with quicksilver steps across the grass. Do you see the clouds enveloping the sky? Flocks of cranes erupt from the riverbank, fitful gusts ruffle the fields, anxious cattle tremble in their stalls. Do you see the clouds enveloping the sky? You loiter in vain over your toilet lamp; it flickers and dies in the wind. Who will care that your eyelids have not been painted with lamp-black, when your pupils are darker than thunderstorms? You loiter in vain over your toilet lamp; it flickers and dies in the wind. Come as you are, forget appearances! If the wreath lies unwoven, who cares? If the bracelet is unfastened, let it fall. The sky grows dark; it is late. Come as you are, forget appearanc...
I'm not sure where I found this section of the Bhagavad Gita, but I found it beautiful. Never was there a time when I did not exist. Nor you, nor all these kings, nor in the future shall any of us cease to be.
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