Dear grief, I can even keep you hidden inside me to death!

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My words are sad for some people

I put my fingernail on my dreams.

Not dear life and unbuttoned words.

I gave myself wings with my tidy loneliness.

Abandoned syllables and oppressed.

What triggers my heart is the breeze of spirituality.

Many climates, many dilemmas hidden inside me: emotions that rise up at nightfall and my soul and my ear are waiting for a season in which I will be freed and I wish for a world, far beyond the birds of torment from the universe, it is the memory of every moment I stand on the shore that gives me peace.

My words are precious to me and love.

My words are worthless for some people and sadness.

There are emotions that I reap as much as I cannot reap and my beloved fate.

Dear grief, I can even keep you hidden inside me to death.

Some shadows are unholy sometimes and my heart is legitimate and capable of feeling and the garden of paradise hidden inside me like flowers blooming on my knees as I crouch.

For some, I am an indiscreet wind and my resilience is tested.

According to some, I am a receiving bird flying high with its euphoria, and the transmitter is my heart and my pen.

I don't have any demands anymore, as much as I stomp on people, it is a matter of time before it falls from the ground inside me, and the measurement of the words is the route of the heart, and know that sometimes I regretfully complain only to myself.

The only time I find peace is in every prayer and I need peace so much that the moment I remember my Lord is indispensable and I am as far away as I stand on the shore with my heart and how far away I am.

I have stories that I hide from everyone.

I have stories that I emulate only with myself, sometimes my occupied emotions, and here I overflow my dollar before every explosion.

I overflow and crown my heart.

Sometimes I am stoned and I hand bread to my enemy.

The rest is none of my business, I refer to God whoever marginalizes me.

Days are the cauldron of the heart and every obstacle I encounter on the road I walk and the measurement of their anger, I respond with love, faith and hope...

And while I am more than those who put obstacles in the hearts of the disabled, even if I am a stone of patience, my words crack without cracking, sometimes silent, sometimes miserable, sometimes I bounce like a stray mine.

Faith is one of the seasons, of course, and I am on the shore in homage to the face of this holy night, my radar is love, my draft is love, and I burn and burn with the fire of Divine Love...

I burn even the ice.

I only pray that my Lord protects me from those who sow discord.

Mine is a life that I love with a great deal of probability.

It is not the hour of love because it is a clock that I set for eternity or a time machine, like my wound that I pierce without interruption, my Lord whom I consult without interruption, and the world from which I am abstracted without interruption...

Some live on the street of abandoned dreams.

Perhaps my heart's desertion is a mad climate.

How many things I have memorized and how many things I praise...

Some are clowns, some lyrics and false smiles, and as much as I don't know how to fly with the flying wind, it is my Lord who has given me my soul and my wings, and they don't see me flying.

Sometimes they look with their blind eyes.

As for me, my heart is ashes and in my embers are hidden my essence and my word that do not separate from each other.

I am spiritually peaceful.

Materially, I am a contrary creature in the world, I have always been able to put the world in my heart until I was not accepted in the world, and my heart is ruthless, my heart is shrewish, and the child in me is just as soft-hearted.

Sometimes I fly in the fall but I don't get cold.

I remember the season at the equator but I don't sweat.

Opposite poles attract each other and I am both hot and cold; I am a wound that is both calm and hectic, my pen and my heart climate and my guardian angels...

I peck every emotion in the barn of love.

I follow Snow White after being separated from the sleeping dwarfs, and it is a search that I realize too late that it is actually myself, a search that makes me both close to me and far from me, and what I am looking for is hidden within me, and I want to share this eternal lyrics hidden within me.

Every moment I annotate.

Closer to me than my jugular vein.

In the morning when I soar and in the scorching sun when I fade.

Love is my omen and melodies are hidden in my heart garden.

Sometimes love is my badge, sometimes sadness is my rank, but faith and hope are always hidden in my qibla.

The bestowed life is realized and my longing for peace does not cease.

While it is better than a thousand nights and the pioneer of waiting and waiting for the night, in the wind of spirituality and in the compass and peace of Divine Love, a prayer hidden in the sky, a thousand prayers, a request, and here is the heart climate and the embroidery of Divine Love, and every moment when the beauties whose identity is acceptable are annotated with virtue, the most noble of the nights and the sign of peace and miracles and eternity born from the power of faith on the path of guidance and the path of guidance.

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)