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تسجيلPeace of Meaning
Feb 11, 2021 04:38 PM Feb 11, 2021 04:38 PM
The spirit’s flower blossomed; the spirit is water During the mindlessness of time, I plundered My swing; it was a state of weeping I turned out, as it might be, to be a cloud Departing, today, towards the remotest places I bend as a king; torn by eagles, Bats and questions O Bomb! Be silent I come, today, out of your bitter cave I hide in your corridors I happily stab the wind I hide like the sleeping years like unoppressed king.
الكاتب: أديب كمال الدين
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