365.
Beside the streamlet seated, mark how life glides on:
That sign, how swift each moment goes, to me’s enough.
Behold this world’s delights, and view its various pains:
If not to you, the joy it shows to me’s enough.
Hāfiz.
366.
The lake no longer water holds—
Off fly the fowls, the lilies stay:
If friends are friends when wealth is gone,
The lily’s constancy they share.
Hindu Poetess.