Mohammad Ahmad
11-10-2014, 08:50 AM
It will be never arid land:
I think you will not understand the imaginary pictures sophistically but rather sophisticatedly, I draw them to be followed in an interlacing manner, furthermore to interfering one image into three images or more, but the well-educated one will understand, and can decode all of its mystery-shaped, so I look happy to see you read me….MMA
Hysterically comes as if one's stung
Toward door crawling likely going up
A tree left behind loading with figs
A summer time and flake of winds blows
It comes round the figure as if a whirl
It spins more time up for the windowsill
And the dusts ran back filling our mouths
Her sound comes on next door as if a stream
Giving my ears an echo of condolence
That's my vowels were geared with consonants.
Her fig tree once has visited my fir-trees
Emotionally to be one soul and one root
Having rising water from one streamlet
As our bodies consisting of flesh and blood
The trees were grown up in the last years
So far ripened to one nucleolus in one shell
Then the harvest comes as if a flickering meteor
As that time of innocence ever have we had?
As pigeons went on flying and never came back!
My soul still eagerly watches like this vision.
And in a dreamlike I went to open the door
Seeing her figure was tortured by the years
Just I drew on an imagining cultivating the emotion
To be sowed again in our fertilized land
The land of love that never be sterile
Since it will be watered by lovers' eyes
I think you will not understand the imaginary pictures sophistically but rather sophisticatedly, I draw them to be followed in an interlacing manner, furthermore to interfering one image into three images or more, but the well-educated one will understand, and can decode all of its mystery-shaped, so I look happy to see you read me….MMA
Hysterically comes as if one's stung
Toward door crawling likely going up
A tree left behind loading with figs
A summer time and flake of winds blows
It comes round the figure as if a whirl
It spins more time up for the windowsill
And the dusts ran back filling our mouths
Her sound comes on next door as if a stream
Giving my ears an echo of condolence
That's my vowels were geared with consonants.
Her fig tree once has visited my fir-trees
Emotionally to be one soul and one root
Having rising water from one streamlet
As our bodies consisting of flesh and blood
The trees were grown up in the last years
So far ripened to one nucleolus in one shell
Then the harvest comes as if a flickering meteor
As that time of innocence ever have we had?
As pigeons went on flying and never came back!
My soul still eagerly watches like this vision.
And in a dreamlike I went to open the door
Seeing her figure was tortured by the years
Just I drew on an imagining cultivating the emotion
To be sowed again in our fertilized land
The land of love that never be sterile
Since it will be watered by lovers' eyes