The drop dies in the riverby Mirza Ghalib The drop dies in the riverof its joypain goes so far it cures itself in the spring after the heavy rain the . . .
I live my life in widening circlesthat reach out across the world.I may not complete this last onebut I give myself to it.I circle around God, around the . . .
Sunny beautiful Friday ,in Quebec I am Lilith, slave of no manIn the Night, when it is quietI can hear your whispersLike an owl, I take flightA serpent . . .
[Last day in Australia ,] Let not pious judge the meek, Each for his own deeds will speak. Whether I am good or bad,you judge yourself, You reap what you . . .