அக்கினிக் குஞ்சொன்று கண்டேன்-அதைஅங்கொரு காட்டிலோர் பொந்திடை வைத்தேன்;வெந்து தணிந்தது காடு;-தழல்வீரத்தில் குஞ்சென்றும் மூப்பென்றும் உண்டோ?தத்தரிகிட தத்ரிகிட தித்தோம்.

اشک رازیستلبخند رازیستعشق رازیستاشک آن شب لبخند عشقم بودقصه نیستم که بگویینغمه نیستم که بخوانیصدا نیستم که بشنوییا چیزی چنان که ببینییا چیزی که چنان بدانی...من درد مشترکممرا فریاد کن.

-A Word On Statistics-Out of every hundred people, those who always know better:fifty-two.Unsure of every step:almost all the rest. Ready to help,if it doesn't take long:forty-nine. Always good,because they cannot be otherwise:fourwell, maybe five. Able to admire without envy:eighteen. Led to errorby youth (which passes):sixty, plus or minus. Those not to be messed with:four-and-forty. Living in constant fearof someone or something:seventy-seven. Capable of happiness:twenty-some-odd at most. Harmless alone,turning savage in crowds:more than half, for sure. Cruelwhen forced by circumstances:it's better not to know,not even approximately. Wise in hindsight:not many morethan wise in foresight. Getting nothing out of life except things:thirty(though I would like to be wrong). Balled up in painand without a flashlight in the dark:eighty-three, sooner or later. Those who are just:quite a few, thirty-five. But if it takes effort to understand:three. Worthy of empathy:ninety-nine. Mortal:one hundred out of one hundreda figure that has never varied yet.

Soul MateWhen we are born, the soul we are given is split apart and half of it is given to someone else. Throughout our lives, we search for the person with the other half of our soul. Very few ever succeed.I am blessed that we have met. In a sudden moment, warm within your loving glare, my soul said, “At last! I can rest. I have found my missing half.” When this happens, it is said we have found our soul mate. We are happy and at peace. When we shared ourselves, we were engulfed in eternity, dancing in a timeless universe. I am truly blessed because that day, my heart recognized you as a part of its own.Thank you for blessing me with you. Thank you for dreaming with me - for seeing the same future as I do. For your beautiful eyes, reminding me of the truest bliss in life. I am forever grateful for you.I will spend an eternity loving you, caring for you, respecting you, showing you every day that I hold you as high as the stars. I am sorry that it’s taken me this long to find you – I shall make it up to you, my flower, as long as we live. I love you!

Solo For Ear-Trumpet The carriage brushes through the brightLeaves (violent jets from life to light);Strong polished speed is plunging, heavesBetween the showers of bright hot leavesThe window-glasses glaze our facesAnd jar them to the very basis — But they could never put a polishUpon my manners or abolishMy most distinct disinclinationFor calling on a rich relation!In her house — (bulwark built betweenThe life man lives and visions seen) — The sunlight hiccups white as chalk,Grown drunk with emptiness of talk,And silence hisses like a snake — Invertebrate and rattling ache….Then suddenly EternityDrowns all the houses like a seaAnd down the street the Trump of DoomBlares madly — shakes the drawing-roomWhere raw-edged shadows sting forlornAs dank dark nettles. Down the hornOf her ear-trumpet I conveyThe news that 'It is Judgment Day!''Speak louder: I don't catch, my dear.'I roared: 'It is the Trump we hear!''The What?' 'THE TRUMP!' 'I shall complain!…. the boy-scouts practising again.

LET’S GO BACK HOMEI can't think about you,Without smiling.What I wouldn’t give,To go back there,Take you in my arms,Kiss you, And tell you,"I still love you."It's been three decades now,And still your smile's with me,Your wave goodbye, The love in your eyes, And everything else you gave me,Before that highway fog swept in,And stole your spirit away.Oh- to return by your side again, Fish beside the Pleasant Hill Dam,Hike through the Mayer's woods, Hang out on your big hill,Sleep naked in your twin bed,Fill your room with laughter- And marijuana smoke.You returned home-And I traveled on down the road,Found new loves,Safely took them under my wing,And deeply into my heart.But you know, as I do-This wasn’t always possible.I didn’t always have the fire- The courage to stand tall,The joy to expand, Nor the love to give deeply.These were all your gifts--To me.Someday-When I close my eyes for good,And cry out- "Lord- forgive me for I have sinned-"I'll joyously return by your side,Take you into my arms, Kiss you, And tell you,"I still love you.

That’s enough feeling for a while nowHands shaking, sweat dripping from his browHe eyed the narrow closet doorThe monster in it asking him to feel moreTill he learned to not hearTo stay away and not go nearTo the heart that was locked insideChained down with the steel that was his prideHe was left to the silence that runs somewhere in-between morning and nightWrapped himself in darkness, tucked himself up tightHoping she would somehow find a way inBy the hairs on his chiny chin chinThrough the dreams he could remember notFor it was less disappointing if he forgotThat yet another night She didn’t fightShe accepted the lockMade no attempt to knockShe just didn’t see his needDidn’t dress his wounds from the nights he’d bleedIt’s silly really, all he wanted was a band-aidFor her to see he was dismayedAnd sit with him through silence that runs somewhere in-between morning and nightOpen the shades and let in some much needed lightOr just try…Not just accept it and walk bySay something comforting and wittyJust for once, try to shake him from his ridiculous self-pity

بس ماكانش المفروض / تحنّ للبلكونة اللي ما بتطلش يوميا غير على نفس الشارع البلكونة اللي مابقتش تساع خطاويك لما بترقص على أنغام غنوة جاية من مكان غامضعارفاللي علمك الرقص :الوحدةوكتر المرايات

استريحي ليس للدور بقية انتهت كل فصول المسرحيةفامسحي زيف المساحيقولا ترتدي تلك المسوح المريميةواكشفي البسمة عما تحتهامن حنين .. واشتهاء .. وخطيةكنت يوماً فتنه قدستهاكنت يوماًظمأ القلب .. وريه

La raison qui m’a conduit à proférer de la poésie (shi‘r) est que j’ai vu en songe un ange qui m’apportait un morceau de lumière blanche ; on eût dit qu’il provenait du soleil. « Qu’est-ce que cela ? », Demandai-je. « C’est la sourate al-shu‘arâ (Les Poètes) » me fut-il répondu. Je l’avalai et je sentis un cheveu (sha‘ra) qui remontait de ma poitrine à ma gorge, puis à ma bouche. C’était un animal avec une tête, une langue, des yeux et des lèvres. Il s’étendit jusqu’à ce que sa tête atteigne les deux horizons, celui d’Orient et celui d’Occident. Puis il se contracta et revint dans ma poitrine ; je sus alors que ma parole atteindrait l’Orient et l’Occident. Quand je revins à moi, je déclamai des vers qui ne procédaient d’aucune réflexion ni d’aucune intellection. Depuis lors cette inspiration n’a jamais cessé.

I cannot go to school today"Said little Peggy Ann McKay."I have the measles and the mumps,A gash, a rash and purple bumps.My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.I'm going blind in my right eye.My tonsils are as big as rocks,I've counted sixteen chicken pox.And there's one more - that's seventeen,And don't you think my face looks green?My leg is cut, my eyes are blue,It might be the instamatic flu.I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,I'm sure that my left leg is broke.My hip hurts when I move my chin,My belly button's caving in.My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,My 'pendix pains each time it rains.My toes are cold, my toes are numb,I have a sliver in my thumb.My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,I hardly whisper when I speak.My tongue is filling up my mouth,I think my hair is falling out.My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,My temperature is one-o-eight.My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,There's a hole inside my ear.I have a hangnail, and my heart is ...What? What's that? What's that you say?You say today is .............. Saturday?G'bye, I'm going out to play!

Time Out To Cry ©All alone at the end of the dayThe time, just a little past tenEvening has come for a short stayIt’s time for her sorrow againThe smile on her face she’s been holdingSuddenly, she lets fallAnd the feelings begin unfoldingShe comes out of her personal wallAs the world settles down for the nightShe awakens herself from a dreamAnd the girl they all thought had her life going rightIs no longer the image she’d seemShe takes off the disguise she’s been wearingThen opens her heart to the truthBehind closed doors she’s not caringAbout life or love in her youthSo she sits by the mirror spilling tearsAnd cries by herself in the darkA whole day of acting like she has no fearsTakes a lot from an empty heartInside she’s lonely and sadBut acts like she's fine in the dayRevealing her misery, secretly wishing she hadA friend, or a promise to stayShe’s ashamed of the truth she’s been keepingLiving her hours in daylight a lieAnd this is the reason for in darkness she’s weepingTaking time out from each day to cryWritten by Shannen WrassCopyright © 1995 Shannen Wrass. All Rights Reserved

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,That host with their banners at sunset were seen:Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.And there lay the rider distorted and pale,With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; thatwitches are often betrayed by their appetites;dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;hearts can be well-hidden,and you betray them with your tongue.Do not be jealous of your sister.Know that diamonds and rosesare as uncomfortable when they tumble from one's lips as toads and frogs:colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.Remember your name.Do not lose hope -- what you seek will be found.Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped to help you in their turn.Trust dreams.Trust your heart, and trust your story.When you come back, return the way you came.Favors will be returned, debts be repaid.Do not forget your manners.Do not look back.Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is why it will not stand.When you reach the little house, the place your journey started,you will recognize it, although it will seem much smaller than you remember.Walk up the path, and through the garden gate you never saw before but once.And then go home. Or make a home.Or rest.

Mark but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deniest me is; Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; Thou know’st that this cannot be said A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead, Yet this enjoys before it woo, And pampered swells with one blood made of two, And this, alas, is more than we would do. Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare, Where we almost, nay more than married are. This flea is you and I, and this Our mariage bed and mariage temple is; Though parents grudge, and you, we are met, And cloisterd in these living walls of jet. Though use make you apt to kill me, Let not to that, self-murder added be, And sacrilege, three sins in killing three. Cruel and sudden, hast thou since Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence? Wherein could this flea guilty be, Except in that drop which it sucked from thee? Yet thou triumph’st, and say'st that thou Find’st not thy self, nor me the weaker now; ’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be: Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me, Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.