What man dare say that he is quite immune
From charms and spells that ev'ry girl possesses ?
A budding love is like the warmth of June,
That lulls and dulls his senses ere he guesses;
Yet who should seek to fly from such attack?
Though stricken sore, I hold my charmer blameless;
My truant heart I would not summon back,
I leave it in the care of one who's nameless.

He jests at scars who never felt the blow
That comes when love first smites and sends him reeling;
The stinging arrow speeds and brings him low,

Love is like
a pineapple,
sweet and
undefinable.

Love is the scent with the lotus born.
It is the silent choirs of petals
Singing the winter's harmony of uniform beauty.
Love is the song of the soul, singing to God.
It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets -
sun and moon lit
In the skyey hall festooned with fleecy clouds -
Around the sovereign Silent Will.
It is the thirst of the rose to drink the sunrays
And blush red with life.
‘Tis the promptings of the mother earth
To feed her milk to the tender, thirsty roots,
And to nurse all life.
It is the urge of the sun

What is life
if there are no struggle and gain?
What is love
if there are no joy and pain?

Living like dead
lying on the bed
of soil
will spoil
the goal of life, o Man.
Who can
be a Mojnu* if he
doesn't fall in the sea
of pain?
Without suffering, there is no gain.

What is it that burns in me
That swells
The agony and ekstecy my heart.

In all my senses
Hums the tune of your love
Burns intensely that
Saturates with ash
Inside and out of my heart.

Maybe the colloquialism of your love,
Will incinerate me in a slow pace.

What is it about your eyes, love? Tell us, tell us truly!
It makes our hearts go flutter when you look at us and it makes our hearts go wild!
What is it about your eyes, love? Tell us, tell us truly!

The magic of your eyes makes my mind quiver with joy!
Usually, my love, a proud gorgeous girl happens to bewitch man's mind,
But it is you who has enthralled the minds of proud alluring girls!
What is it about your eyes, love? Tell us, tell us truly!

Your eyes have ravished our hearts, love!

Last night on the sports channel
I watched the rodeo.
Those cowboys have it right;
the best and the beauty of it.
You cannot win, so you ride
for as long as you can and enjoy it.
When you dismount,
whether it be on your own or not,
it won't look pretty. You'll limp off.
But you'll feel good; your heart
will be pounding like it never has,
and walking away, one crazy step
after another, your ears will ring
with the loud approval
of those who never felt so good.


Anonymous submission.

Westron wynde when wyll thou blow,
The smalle rayne down can rayne -
Cryst, yf my love wer in my armys
And I yn my bed agayne!

Westron wind, when wilt thou blow
That small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again!

Well he slumbers, greatly slain,
Who in splendid battle dies;
Deep his sleep in midmost main
Pillowed upon pearl who lies.

Ease, of all good gifts the best,
War and wave at last decree:
Love alone denies us rest,
Crueller than sword or sea.