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To eyes filled with laughter, every object is a thing of wonder,

Every song is a favorite, every bird on the roof is a soul-mate.

These eyes are linguists.  

Between heaven and earth, day and night, hate and love,

Birth and death, repulsion and attraction, desire and surrender,

All that exists is blissful and sacred.

A consciousness that expands in joyous silence,

Has eyes of a newborn calf, waking up in a strange world, enchanting, rapturous.

The Song of the Sufi Masroof