Tum jab say mile ho yeh duniya janat hay Tumhain yon chahtay rehna hi bus meri ibadat hay Na janay q nahi laga mujay dar is zamanay say Suna hai pyar karnay walo ki aesi hi fitrat hay Meray mehboob agar koi laga day mujh ko sooli bhi Meri mayyat bhi bolay gi mujhay tum say mohabbat hay
Luv not one, Luv not two Luv d one who luvs u true,
Luv not three, Luv not four Luv d one who luvs u more,
Luv not five, Luv not six Luv d one who really sticks,
Luv not seven, Luv not eight Luv d one who really waits
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
