Travels: Journeys that respond to the calls of my spirit
Oh! Supreme Lover! Let me leave aside my worries. The flowers are blooming with the exultation of your Spirit.
By Allah! I long to escape the prison of my ego and lose myself in the mountains and the desert.
These sad and lonely people tire me. I long to revel in the drunken frenzy of your love and feel the strength of Rustam in my hands.
I'm sick of mortal kings. I long to see your light. With lamps in hand the sheikhs and mullahs roam the dark alleys of these towns not finding what they seek.
You are the Essence of the Essence, The intoxication of Love. I long to sing your praises but stand mute with the agony of wishing in my heart.
Entering the summer grove and traces of His loves remain.
"The eagle fly's high The whale dives low the deer give a sigh cry's from the crow
Love of the four seasons very clear reasons the birth of the summer woodpeckers drummer
the water is clear fish are near the gulls fly above seals in Love
Norwegian Nature you cannot manufacture it is wild and free buzzing from the bee
everything is very green greener than you have ever seen green turns to gold's as the autumn, unfolds
The nature in Norway is happy everyday it really is god's country some people do say"
"If European cities were a necklace, Czech Republic would be a diamond among the pearls"
"The perennial wonder of Venice is to peer at herself in her canals and find that she exists – incredible as it seems. It is the same reassurance that a looking glass offers us: the guarantee that we are real"
"The great book, always open and which we should make an effort to read, is that of Nature."
"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."
Hamburg | Berlin
I enter a friendly little town, On its streets a red evening glow. From out an open window Over a profuse array of flowers one hears Golden sounds of bells drifting in air, And a voice like a nightingale choir, Making blossoms quiver, Making the air come alive, Making red roses glow redder yet.
Amazed I stood there long, joyfully confused. How I could leave through the town gate, In truth I know it not. Ah here, how radiant the world I see! The sky billowing with purple clouds, Behind me the town in golden haze; The brook rushing here, and down at the mill! I feel drunk, led astray— O Muse, thou hast touched my heart With your wisp of love!
In Singapore, above the trees, the towers soar.
Where I explore with joyful ease, in Singapore.
Beside the shore, against the breeze, the towers soar.
The city's core: West meets East in Singapore.
A port of yore, the world now sees the towers soar.
Few sights are more high-rise than these: In Singapore the towers soar.