Love
Love is a delicate emotion that resides in the heart, bringing it to life when it feels dormant. It is rooted in emotional comfort for both parties involved and is built on principles of forgiveness, support, and shared experiences. Love thrives on sacrifice and selflessness.
Beautiful Love Quotes
Below is a selection of some of the most beautiful quotes about love:
- Allow me to delve into the depths of your life, to live by your voice and the warmth of your melodies, to study the magic of your gaze. You who have melted me with your exquisite beauty; I have fallen for the silence of your presence and the tenderness of your conversation. The day I met you became my birthday.
- The most wonderful feeling is to experience love, but the greatest joy is to be felt by the one you love.
- Hours pass as I await your voice, days go by as I long to see you, and a lifetime goes on as I love you.
- My heart belongs to you, the one who has captured every heart. I vow to remain a faithful companion along life’s journey; be patient, for my heart cannot withstand battles, and be gentle with me, for my love for you is a sun that refuses to set.
- Love is another expression of the heart, akin to sorrow and joy, but it is the most beautiful of them all.
- Love and passion are but a single soul dwelling in two bodies.
- Love is settling for you and never tiring of you.
- Your eyes will always astound me, no matter how often I see them.
- Love is a feeling in a heart that fears for your safety, granting you smiles even when the world seems harsh.
- I love you because you create a complete life within me; the world becomes softer in your presence, for I have never known a path to salvation other than you.
- Snow is the gift of winter, the sun is the gift of summer, flowers are the gift of spring, and you are the gift of a lifetime.
Poems About Love
Here are some poems that beautifully express the emotions of love:
Endless Love, Nizar Qabbani
O my lady:
You were the most important woman in my history
Before the year passed.
You are now the most significant woman
After the birth of this year.
You are a woman who cannot be counted by hours or days.
You are a woman made of the fruits of poetry
And the gold of dreams.
You are a woman who inhabited my body
Long before millions of years.
O my lady:
Crafted from cotton and mist.
Storms of rubies,
Rivers of melody,
Forests of marble.
You swim like fish in the waters of the heart,
And dwell in my eyes like a flock of doves.
Nothing will change in my feelings.
In my sensation,
In my conscience, in my faith,
I shall remain steadfast in Islam.
O my lady:
Do not concern yourself with the rhythm of time and the names of the years.
You are a woman who remains a woman at all times.
I will love you
When entering the twenty-first century.
And when entering the twenty-fifth century.
And when entering the twenty-ninth century.
I will love you
When the sea’s waters dry up,
And the forests burn.
O my lady:
You are the essence of all poetry
And the flower of all freedoms.
It suffices to spell your name
For me to become the king of poetry
And the pharaoh of words.
It suffices for a woman like you to love me
For me to enter the history books
And for banners to be raised for me.
O my lady:
Do not flutter like a bird in a festive time.
Nothing will change in me.
The river of love will not cease to flow.
The heartbeat will not stop beating.
The dove of poetry will not cease to fly.
When love is great
And the beloved is a moon,
This love will not turn
Into a bundle of straw consumed by flames.
O my lady:
Nothing fills my eyes
Not the lights,
Nor the decorations,
Nor the bells of festivity,
Nor the Christmas tree.
Streets mean nothing to me.
The tavern means nothing to me.
No words matter to me
Written on festive cards.
O my lady:
I only remember your voice
When church bells ring on Sundays.
I remember only your fragrance
When I sleep on the grass.
I do not remember anything but your face
When snow whispers over my clothes
And I hear the crackling of the logs.
What delights me, my lady
Is to huddle like a scared bird
Among the gardens of eyelashes.
What fascinates me, my lady
Is that you gift me with a pen of ink
I embrace it
And sleep happily like a child.
O my lady:
How happy I am in my exile
I drip the essence of poetry
And drink from the wine of monks.
How strong I feel
When I become a friend
Of freedom and humanity.
O my lady:
How I wish I had loved you in the Age of Enlightenment,
And in the era of photography,
And the Age of Pioneers.
How I wish I could meet you one day
In Florence,
Or Cordoba,
Or in Kufa,
Or in Aleppo,
Or in a home in the streets of Sham.
O my lady:
How I wish we could travel
To lands governed by the guitar
Where love knows no borders
And words are unconfined
And dreams are boundless.
O my lady:
Do not worry about the future, my lady
My longing will remain stronger than it has ever been
And fiercer than ever before.
You are a woman who will never be repeated in the history of roses
And in the history of poetry
And in the memories of lilies and basil.
O lady of the world,
Nothing occupies my mind but your love in the days to come.
You are my first wife.
My first mother
My first womb
My first passion
My lifeline in the time of the flood.
O my lady:
Lady of the First Poetry,
Extend your right hand so I may hide within it.
Extend your left hand
So I may settle in it.
Say a word of love
So that the celebrations may begin.
Song of Love, Fadwa Touqan
Ten years stood behind the little girl
When she called him with a voice choked with tears:
Take me in your kindness
Be to me both father
Mother and kin.
I am all alone
I am nothing.
I am a shadow
All alone in a deserted universe
Where love has frozen
And the senses have dulled.
And I am the child longing for love, yearning
For innocent childish joy
For jumping rope
And diving into the pond
Playing with other kids
To climb the trees in the yard.
The oppression tortures me
And authority terrifies me
While my body is sick and weak.
I raise my face toward the night sky
Crying out,
Hoping,
Begging:
Shade me under your wings
Help me,
Take me from my ten years
From the darkness of my days, take me.
Open your embrace for me, let me
Rest my head on your chest, grant me
Safety and peace
O balm for the wounds of the oppressed
And salvation for the forsaken and deprived.
Take me!
Take me!
The river of time flows, the year passes
Year after year,
The girl grows and the woman
Is a flower in a garden,
Blossoming while the birds circle
Flitting around the flower,
Time, difficult as it is, befriends her
And the universe smiles at her,
While love pours over her
From every corner of the world,
Embracing her with its charms
And blessing her with its rituals,
Filling her with its sweet waters.
How beautiful is love and what a wonder!
The woman-flower blooms after her slumber
And stumbles in the night of her maze.
She sits in the kingdom of love
Becoming its goddess.
Circles of light crown her
And kisses of breezes caress her.
How beautiful is love and what a wonder!
In it, the night is a sky that rains
Pouring forth music and poems,
And lanterns of words stream
Light onto a promising hope.
How beautiful is love!
It opens the eyes of the heart
How sweet it is when it touches the depths of the heart
Illuminating what the mind cannot see and grasping
What thought cannot perceive and exploring what
Understanding cannot reach.
How beautiful is love and what a wonder!
It is a complete and unscathed universe
That has not shattered or torn.
Time harmonizes with it and becomes
A universal symphony of rhythms,
In which ‘I’ merges with ‘you’
Shining in a continuous dialogue
Even in silence.
How beautiful is love and what a wonder!
It thrives between hands that foster
The earth moistens and bones awaken
Time dances in enchanted rhythms
Measured not by clocks
Nor by months and years.
How beautiful is love!
Love, Sea, and Guardian, Najib Surur
They used to say that love prolongs life.
Indeed, love truly prolongs life!
When we feel like the world is a bouquet of flowers,
When we feel as if we were made of crystal,
When we rise like the smile of dawn,
When we speak words like poetry,
When the heart warms like a bird,
About to leave its cage,
To embrace all humanity!
We used to sit on the sand,
There was a melody in our eyes
That no poet had ever written.
She said:
– Describe this sea to me!
– O my grave, I am not skilled at description.
– Then how do you write poetry?
– I do not shape this world; I live it.
I do not compose unless my essence is paralyzed
Unless I can encapsulate myself within words.