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The grass that grows by every stream Like angelic smiles faintly gleam Step gently, cause it not to scream For it has grown from a lover’s dream. |
Those who went in pursuit of knowledge Soared up so high, stretched the edge Were still encaged by the same dark hedge Brought us some tales ere life to death pledge. |
Once upon a time, in a potter’s shop I saw two thousand clay pot and cup Suddenly a lone pot cried out, "stop! Where the vendor, buyer, where my prop?" OR To a pottery I went by chance Two thousand pots I saw in a glance Cried out a pot awakened from trance "whither potter, vendor and buyer prance?" |
We are the puppets and fate the puppeteer This is not a metaphor, but a truth sincere On this stage, fate for sometime our moves steer Into the chest of non-existence, one by one disappear. |
The signs of what’s to come has always been Has always written both benevolent and mean What is our lot was given by the hand unseen With futility we try, exert, weep or keen. |
This clay pot like a lover once in heat A lock of hair his senses did defeat The handle that has made the bottleneck its own seat Was once the embrace of a lover that entreat. |
The sun with its morning light the earth ensnare The king celebrated the day with a wine so fair The herald of dawn intoxicated would blare Its fame and aroma, for time having not a care. |
| اکنون ساعت 03:32 AM برپایه ساعت جهانی (GMT - گرینویچ) +3.5 می باشد. |
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استفاده از مطالب پی سی سیتی بدون ذکر منبع هم پیگرد قانونی ندارد!! (این دیگه به انصاف خودتونه !!)
(اگر مطلبی از شما در سایت ما بدون ذکر نامتان استفاده شده مارا خبر کنید تا آنرا اصلاح کنیم)