Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers'' eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers'' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet
khud ko mujh se juda kia us ne, jo na krna tha wo kia us ne, yad krne se b na yad aon, esa muj ko bhula dia us ne, tum to bas waqt ki zarurat ho, muj ko akhir bata dia us ne, apne hathon se khud he likh mujhe, jane kyun phir mitadya us ne.
