Love is like a hunter,
who cares not for the game
when once caught,
which he may have pursued
with the most intense
and breathless eagerness.
Love is strongest in pursuit;
friendship in possession.
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
Bichedte hue yaad de jayenge
Khud sone se pehle unhi ko 1 khwab de jayenge
Unhe gila hai ke hm jawab nahin dete
Saanso ke rukne se pehle har jawab dy jayenge
He who is in love
is wise and is becoming wiser,
sees newly every time he
looks at the object beloved,
drawing from it with his eyes
and his mind those virtues
which it possesses.
