Itheca, by Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933)

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber, and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe (1749-1832)
My friend, in this hour you will gain (from Faust)

My friend, in this one hour you will gain
far more for all your senses
than in a year's indifferent course.
What the tender spirits sing for you,
the lovely images they bring,
will not be empty magic play.
Blissful scents will come your way,
then your palate will be stimulated,
you will be bathed in ecstasy.
For this you need no preparation;
we are assembled, now begin.

I burst into laughter, by Kabir (15th century)

I burst into laughter
whenever I hear
that the fish is thirsty in water.

Without the knowledge of Self
people just wander to Mathura or to Kashi
like the musk-deer unaware
of the scent in his navel,
goes on running forest to forest.

In water is the lotus plant
and the plant bears flowers
and on the flowers are the bees buzzing.
Likewise all yogis and mendicants
and all those who have renounced comforts,
are on here and hereafter and the nether world-contemplating.

Friend, the Supreme Indestructible Being,
on whom thousands of sages meditate
and even Brahma, Vishnu and Mahesh,
really resides within one's self.

Though He is near, He appears far away-
and that is what makes one disturbed;
says Kabir, listen, O wise one,
by Guru alone is the confusion curbed.

He’s among the scented trees, by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

He's there among the scented trees,
playing the notes he has taught you.
Too late for embarrassment, shy doe
nibbling at the forest's edge,
shawled in deep blue shadows.
He's calling you. The flower of your soul
is opening, little deer.
The river of scent will lead you
deep into the trees where he waits.
The bihanga also plays tonight --
do you hear his more distant flute?
Black bees carry the moon's luster
from flower to flower.
The rest of the grove will bloom tonight, I think.
How he looks at you, young animal.
He shames the moon with his own dark light.

Let's bow down before the young Lord,
the deep blue flowers at his feet.

Living in the mountain on an Autumn night, by Wang Wei (699-761)

After fresh rain on the empty mountain
comes evening and the cold of autumn.
The full moon burns through the pines.
A brook transparent over the stones.
Bamboo trees crackle as washerwomen go home
and lotus flowers sway as fisherman's boat slips downriver.
Though the fresh smell of grass is gone,
a prince is happy in these hills.

William Shakespeare, "Romeo and Juliet".

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

Patrick Suskind, "Perfume"

Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it."