What dream shower is that dying fire hidden inside? You are a child, your mother gave birth to you from anger and joy.
With the sound of torn silk; You are a child, like Bedouins, you have to find the way you lost in the desert with the poems you memorized The fire you light, the bend you bend, the umbrella you open, the old tree you embrace.
You know, my direction is a soft composition hidden in its full voice.
Maybe it is a couplet that escaped from the Epic of Gilgamesh, and the sun that the miserable child within it aimed at with his slingshot.
Oh, dear, do you never compromise on your dry rose dreams, do you ever try to be close, it is a feeling that I know very well.
There is no picture, I have sworn to be just a poem, my feelings, I escape from my sluggish sleep in the desert of the night.
Those are adventurous compositions, like a hidden note in the impulsive voice of your heart, a refrain hidden in the song you embrace, or the dawn you became the target with your wandering heart, and here the night was cleared from your dirt and you escaped from the day full of innuendo. Take a look at the earth's stout arms, as if your dreams weren't enough, incline to a rose garden, and be grateful for the days when you got rid of the gallows whenever you fell into trouble.
Stars are the pseudonym of poetry.
The story of your life is that sometimes you are caught in that vicious circle, in that wish tree you hang on earth while you keep watch in the sky.
The verses are non-theoretical.
The tales you tend are extraordinary.
If it's your confidant, reach out for the sentences you threw in the pen once again and close your eyes and give it to your heart that you keep open, and who told you to love out of the blue?
Like the dreams that hit the shores of a melancholy heart, maybe like the nightmares in which you are drowned by baseless accusations.
Wherever you are captive, your dreams remain in your hands: as long as you leave your past on your shoulders in yesterday, turn your back on the season as much as you slipped, call your saz and throw your hook and nail out of the world.
If it's sadness, what does your curse, which puts a bullet in your loneliness as much as you drink, replace the love and words that you keep dwelling with your secrets that appear in a rich shadow?
If it's a dream, you peek inside.
If it's a hypocrisy, when you look into your eyes and swear to your friends who say they love you, isn't it the only owner of your homeless heart, isn't it the only owner of your homeless heart? your eyes and start counting down.
You can't tear that artificial skin of the earth and you can't resist the order, you still have one way out. Since your child is not only consoled but also defended, you carried your innocence to this day.
If you have a slovenly smile, you are the devil who clings to your neck and your mocking eyes are guarding the ground.
On the way to your love's sake.
Your inner voice as if going to the minutes.
Never debate the external voice even if it is dominant, and embrace the heart with gratitude and gratitude, caress the heads of all the oppressed and orphans, since we take the example of our great Prophet of all children, do not eat the right of the servant and love your neighbor and even defeat the whole universe and the defeat in it with your love. With your faith in the Lord of injustice, wait for Divine Justice to manifest.
You are silent.
Like a thirsty desert flower.
Besides, you're tired.
Don't talk and dream, child, but never let your head fall forward and with your child's innocence, extend the emptiness in your heart to your confidant angels, the cold climate in your consolation with dreams and the cold climate in your consolation, and dream as long as you don't fall from people's eyes, as long as you don't neglect your heart eye and love and run only to your Lord from your pocket With the falling pebbles, let the migratory birds follow you, end the silence within, with your heartbeat, and release your burdens as much as you can't.
Your destiny is what you honor.
Write as much as you can, since you are resigned to your fate.
Weave stories in your hair after the season, annotation, dream, sadness and wind the wind, let the mountains of sad disappear before they disappear, as long as you control your soul with your breath and hug your throat, and hold tight to the pains of the demon that has no nationality. and in the inviolability of Divine Love, feel love in everything it touches and divide it into thousands of pieces so that your dreams and hope do not end.
While love is the nuance of the universe.
While the wit is the words of that tiny heart of yours.
O child, listen to me and live and love without rest and resist and persist and to the truth and truth as much as you have commented.
What climate are you?
Which one is your motto? Just listen.
While you are the legend of the sky, on the way you set out with your heart that puts poems and praises on love, only condition the goodness of the bell and your inner voice and that bottomlessness where the sky is deployed:
It is your dreams that make you you, and your never-ending love is hidden in your mood. Don't give up on the nationality and command in your heart!
