How long will I keep burning in your flame? How long will you still turn away from me? How many friends will turn from me in shame? How long will I still hurt? How long will you be free?

Oh, when you remind me of her door, I feel the rapture bubbling up once more. How can I forget that blessing, ever, When you bring to mind long buried treasure?

I went to my love on a moment's thought. She said, "Go away from my door. You are drunk." "Open the door," I said, "I am not." "Go away," she said, "You are

I would shake the dust from my coat, and rise If I realized my own perfection. I would rush to the sky, empty and light; My head would be high as the ninth heaven.

If my head holds one thought wise and clear, it's you. Poor as I am, what I hold dear is you. No matter how I see myself, I'm nothing. Anything I am entirely is you.

I asked you for one kiss, you gave me six. What teacher taught you, that you're such an expert? You're so deep a source of goodness, so kind That you've set the world free a thousand times.

Look again, and see how much I need you; Watch the long nights that I lie here awake. No, I am wrong: the distance between us Will not let me live to see you again.

With a smile biting those two ruby lips, How beautifully, idol, you've come to life! Stealing my heart that day was not enough; Today you're back, intent upon my life.

I'm not me, you're not you, and you're not me; And yet I'm me, you're you, and you are me. Beauty of Khotan, I am this because of you: Confused if I am you, or you are me.

The lovely one whispers under her breath, And you go mad, witless, no reason left... O Lord, what is this chant, what magic art That weaves its spell on even a stone heart?

If I was not so pitifully in love I wouldn't then be standing at your door. Don't say, "Go away, don't stand at my door!" I wouldn't exist, my dear, if I didn't stand here.

God forbid I'd compare the moon to your face Or the tall cypress to your stature and grace. Where in the moon are ruby sweet lips to be found? What cypress sways with the luminous grace of your ways?

The face she shows me is a little sour, Though sugar has never tasted sweeter. Sugar would be bored by its own sweetness If it ever came to know that sour flavor.

Hello Steem World! English is not my first language, so please excuse me if you come across mistakes. I used to blog during the peak years of blogspot. I am talking about pre-twitter era. It is so hard