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When Love comes suddenly and taps
on your window, run and let it in, but first
shut the door of your reason,
even the smallest hint chases love away,
like smoke that drowns the freshness
of the morning breeze.
To reason, Love can only say
the way is barred, you can’t pass through,
but to the lover it offers a hundred blessings.
Before the mind decides to take a step,
Love has reached the seventh heaven.
Love has climbed the Holy Mountain.
I must stop this talk now and let
Love speak from its nest of silence.