Come back O' Lover! The valley of love is deadly more than a thousand deaths... It hurts...Love is infectious, it never cures, it is contagious, It multiplies. Why then it is so less in numbers...? For it sits upon the purest hearts, Its pangs turn into dew, Its smiles into flowers, The soul of it turns into honey, The twitches into thorns, The signs into petals, Its cuts are stitched under the moonlight, Its therapy is poetry Its wound scratches the soul, Its negator becomes its prey, While on hunt, it wears sardonic smile, It maddens the most wise, Each of its mantra multiplies the pain, So you can't refrain, It turns base into gold, and gold into dust, Like a mote dancing in the sunbeam, and spreading colors like a prism... But, but...it is the most beautiful experience of worldly life... It is heavenly and charismatic... It is the most touchy state of mind...it turns Jangling beats into melodious song. © Saadat Ali Khan Noahani
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