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Tale Of Love, Untellable

Love's not grown in gardens; Love's not sold at market. He who wants it, king or commoner, gives his head and takes it. Studying great books many have died none ever becomes learned. Two letters and a half in love, who studies them is learning. Narrow is the lane of love. Two will never fit. When I was, the Lord was not. Now He is; I am not. Kabir says: clouds of love came on me showering; Soaked the heart greening the inner jungle. A heart dry of love; God again untasted. This is man in this world; His arising wasted. Roused, ecstatic with His name, love-drunk, overflowing, reveling in His vision Why bother with liberation? Tale of love, untellable. Not a bit is ever told. The sweets of a dumb one he enjoys and smiles. Nanda Gopal

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