Bahlool simulated madness, though he was not mad. Junaid, a scholar of repute, knew him very well. One day as they met, Junaid requested him
Drumsound rises on the air, its throb, my heart. A voice inside the beat says, “I know you’re tired, but come. This is the way.
“When the lips are closed, then the heart begins to speak; when the heart is silent, then the soul blazes up, bursting into flame, and
One hot day, Nasiruddin Hodja was taking it easy in the shade of a walnut tree. After a time, he started eyeing speculatively, the huge
O Marvel, a garden among the flames! My heart can take on any form: a meadow for gazelles, a cloister for monks, For the idols,
I was dead I came alive I was tears I became laughter all because of love when it arrived my temporal life from then on