My shadow has tumbled down on the pine.
My blood spills on the fox's hide.
Look if you don't know, ask your master
Dying for love isn't death.
A world of fortune revolves in me.
I don't leave a trace on the snow for the partridge,
If I don't have a place in the glasshouse.
Dying with love is not a bravura.
Wisdom is water which never clears.
No table is set in an empty house.
Dim-wits don't get the not.
Knowing half is not wisdom.
A savant knows, not trifles.
A saz who is in love is not to be vied with.
If you are walking around saying you have solved the mystery,
What you're looking at is a glass, not a mirror.
Forget it, whatever happens, happens
One who suffers shall find the remedy
Screw that, what comes around goes around
If the half is empty, the other half is full.