When does it arrive, when does it depart, where does it dwell, what does it consume?
Love is a traveler, arriving and leaving by its own will.
It grows displeased, it wearies,
Who knows what whispers it heeds?
It simply rises and departs.
How much can one restrain, how much can one implore?
Love is a traveler, arriving and leaving by its own will.
When does it arrive, when does it depart, where does it dwell, what does it consume?
Love is a traveler, arriving and leaving by its own will.
It grows displeased, it wearies,
Who knows what whispers it heeds?
It simply rises and departs.
How much can one restrain, how much can one implore?
Love is a traveler, arriving and leaving by its own will.
Sometimes, it makes one wait a lifetime,
Sometimes, it stands at the door, smiling.
Wandering through every lane, every city,
It neither listens nor speaks.
Yet, all sit awaiting, hopeful,
Who knows when it might cross our path?
Love is a traveler, arriving and leaving by its own will.
No fortune to be earned, no wealth to be gained,
No sweet drinks offered, no waters poured,
No sun to be lit, no candle to be burned,
No lines drawn, no horoscopes read,
No temples built, no mosques raised,
It emerges from the heart, and merges into the heart.
Love is a traveler, arriving and leaving by its own will.
Love is a traveler, arriving and leaving by its own will.
Love is a traveler, arriving and leaving by its own will.
|
