1
And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with youall through my life?-sharing my fire, my bed, Sharing-oh, worst of all things! -the same head?- And, when I feed myself, feeding you too?Unknown
2
The mind, at length bereft Of thinking and its pain, Will soon disperse again, And nothing will remain: No, not a thing be left. Only the ardent eye, Only the listening ear Can say, "The thrush was here! " Can say, "His song was clear! " Can live, before it die.Unknown