زندگی آب تنی کردن در حوضچه < اکنون> است.
زندگی رسم خوشایندی است.
زندگی بال و پری دارد با وسعت مرگ،
پرشی دارد اندازه عشق.
زندگی چیزی نیست، که لب طاقچه عادت از یاد من و تو برود.
زندگی بال و پری دارد با وسعت مرگ،
پرشی دارد اندازه عشق.
زندگی چیزی نیست، که لب طاقچه عادت از یاد من و تو برود.
من به مهمانی دنیا رفتم
من به دشت اندوه
من به باغ عرفان
من به ایوان چراغانی دانش رفتم
رفتم از پله مذهب بالا.
تا ته کوچه شک،
تا هوای خنک استغنا،
تا شب خیس محبت رفتم.
من به دیدار کسی رفتم در آن سر عشق.
رفتم، رفتم تا زن،
تا چراغ لذت،
تا سکوت خواهش،
تا صدای پر تنهایی.
من به دشت اندوه
من به باغ عرفان
من به ایوان چراغانی دانش رفتم
رفتم از پله مذهب بالا.
تا ته کوچه شک،
تا هوای خنک استغنا،
تا شب خیس محبت رفتم.
من به دیدار کسی رفتم در آن سر عشق.
رفتم، رفتم تا زن،
تا چراغ لذت،
تا سکوت خواهش،
تا صدای پر تنهایی.
یک جایی بودا گفت :
هنگامی که توقعی نداریم همه چیز داریم...
من می گویم عاشق موجود پر توقعی است.... و اینست که آنچه را که می خواهد نمی تواند از آن خود کند....
هنگامی که توقعی نداریم همه چیز داریم...
من می گویم عاشق موجود پر توقعی است.... و اینست که آنچه را که می خواهد نمی تواند از آن خود کند....
من و عاشقی
زیر درخت ها که راه می روم....
از لای شاخ و بزگشان آسمان آبی بالای سرم با ایمانم می کند.....
هنوز هم شاخه های بی برگ آنها در زمستان..... من را به وجود یگانه آفریدگار جهان معتقد می کند.....
اما......
آیا چنین آفریدگاری به حقیقت وجود دارد؟
آری ، آری، زندگی زیباست.
زندگی آتشگهی دیرینه پا برجاست.
گر بیفروزیش، رقص شعله اش در هر کران پیداست.
ورنه خاموش است و خاموشی گناه ماست.
زندگانی شعله می خواهد.
Arash Kamangir
At the end of war between Iran and Turan, Turan has advanced to near Damâvand mountain area. Turan wanted to destroy the Iranians' spirit, so they ordered Iranian to shoot an arrow towards Turan. Wherever the arrow lands, that would be the new border between the two countries. An Iranian super hero, Arash by name, volunteered to shoot the arrow. The location: peak of the Damâvand (Iran's highest mountain, 30 kilometer northeast of Tehrân, the Irânian capital; height 5671 meter). On the bright morning of Tîrgân, Arash stripped naked, faced north, strained his bow as never before, let the arrow fly and exhausted, turned into energy and ride with the arrow. The arrow flew the entire morning and fell at noon -- 2250 kilometer on the bank of the Oxus River in what is now Central Asia. And the river remained the boundary between Iran and Turan for centuries until Mongoloid hordes poured in to push the Iranians southward in the 10th century A.D.
Arash body was never Found. There are still stories from travelers who were lost in the mountain, that how they heard Arash Kamangir voice. And the voice helped them find the road and saved their lives.
Arash body was never Found. There are still stories from travelers who were lost in the mountain, that how they heard Arash Kamangir voice. And the voice helped them find the road and saved their lives.
Guest:
Why are you downhearted? You look lonely
Host:
And how lonely do I feel
Guest:
I suppose you are involved with the invisible vein of colors
Host:
And involved means
Guest:
Involved means in love
Host:
Hhmmm
Guest:
And imagine how lonely the little fish would feel where it involves with the blueness of the infinite sea
Host:
What a sad delicate thought
Guest:
Sad
Host:
Yes, it is sad
Guest:
Aha, and sadness is the hidden smile of plants look
این از طرف یکی از خوانندگان عزیز این وب لاگ است:
Host:
Aren’t plants so lucky to be in love with light where the extended arm of light is on their shoulders
Guest:
No, Unity is impossible. There is always a distance. Although the curve of water makes a mellow pillow for the pleasant and delicate slumber of lily but there is always a distance. One should be involved or the bewildered murmurings between words would go wasted
Host:
What about love
Guest:
Love is the echo of distances; the echo of distances engulfed by ambiguity.
No, Love is the echo of distances as polished as silver, tarnished by hearing just a null.
A lover is always alone
Why are you downhearted? You look lonely
Host:
And how lonely do I feel
Guest:
I suppose you are involved with the invisible vein of colors
Host:
And involved means
Guest:
Involved means in love
Host:
Hhmmm
Guest:
And imagine how lonely the little fish would feel where it involves with the blueness of the infinite sea
Host:
What a sad delicate thought
Guest:
Sad
Host:
Yes, it is sad
Guest:
Aha, and sadness is the hidden smile of plants look
این از طرف یکی از خوانندگان عزیز این وب لاگ است:
Host:
Aren’t plants so lucky to be in love with light where the extended arm of light is on their shoulders
Guest:
No, Unity is impossible. There is always a distance. Although the curve of water makes a mellow pillow for the pleasant and delicate slumber of lily but there is always a distance. One should be involved or the bewildered murmurings between words would go wasted
Host:
What about love
Guest:
Love is the echo of distances; the echo of distances engulfed by ambiguity.
No, Love is the echo of distances as polished as silver, tarnished by hearing just a null.
A lover is always alone
فروغ فرخزاد
من از نهایت شب حرف میزنم
من از نهایت تاریکی
و از نهایت شب حرف میزنم
اگر به خانهء من آمدی برای من ای مهربان چراغ بیاور
و یک دریچه که از آن
به ازدحام کوچهء خوشبخت بنگرم
من از نهایت تاریکی
و از نهایت شب حرف میزنم
اگر به خانهء من آمدی برای من ای مهربان چراغ بیاور
و یک دریچه که از آن
به ازدحام کوچهء خوشبخت بنگرم
I was five and she was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
She wore black and I wore white
She would always win the fight
Bang bang, she shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down.
Seasons came and changed the time
When I grew up, I called her mine
She would always laugh and say
"Remember when we used to play?"
Bang bang, I shot you down
Bang bang, you hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, I used to shoot you down.
Music played, and people sang
Just for me, the church bells rang.
Now she's gone, I don't know why
And till this day, sometimes I cry
She didn't even say goodbye
She didn't take the time to lie.
Bang bang, she shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down
We rode on horses made of sticks
She wore black and I wore white
She would always win the fight
Bang bang, she shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down.
Seasons came and changed the time
When I grew up, I called her mine
She would always laugh and say
"Remember when we used to play?"
Bang bang, I shot you down
Bang bang, you hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, I used to shoot you down.
Music played, and people sang
Just for me, the church bells rang.
Now she's gone, I don't know why
And till this day, sometimes I cry
She didn't even say goodbye
She didn't take the time to lie.
Bang bang, she shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down
من و سکوت
صدای اتاق ....
خوب شیرین امشب نیست.
من تنها اینجا نشسته ام و سعی می کنم یک رویای تابستانی را خلق کنم....
از فرانسه و اسپانیا شروع می کنم و بعد به این نقشه های مجازی از دنیا فکر می کنم....
اسپانیا، فرانسه و حالا ایتالیا هم به فهرست اضافه می شود....
عجب....
خوب شیرین امشب نیست.
من تنها اینجا نشسته ام و سعی می کنم یک رویای تابستانی را خلق کنم....
از فرانسه و اسپانیا شروع می کنم و بعد به این نقشه های مجازی از دنیا فکر می کنم....
اسپانیا، فرانسه و حالا ایتالیا هم به فهرست اضافه می شود....
عجب....