From her bow she throws and hurls me And I was not wounded or thrown And I did not feel the marks of the wounds nor was my feeling of this wound erased
By Kisama Riyo about a year ago in Poets
They slept, and no one slept like me in my supplication They marveled at my habits that wake me up at night They slept, and I did not sleep, until my wakefulness increased
A man married a woman who was cruel to him, and asked him to show only a smile, and if she left the house, the husband shouted:
And he doesn't know why I stand in my depression? I dreamed that I was a bird I moved my hand flexibly And approached the edge smiling
Today is my sister's birthday The most precious thing I have The sweetest with my touches The sweetest with my desires
Oh patience, tell me, am I Job To test my country, so that Satan may fill it with sadness? Or in my sadness have I become Jacob
I drew you in my imagination from my feelings And I mastered the drawings without deficiency And your beauty comes to me in my solitude
Day is a prison for the sighted bat A long night for the blind sight And a blind owl at night And returned in the day to its destiny
My love... the most beautiful of all She is the most beautiful... the most beautiful I was watching her... as if I was seeing her for the first time
You have to surrender the world in the morning You have to surrender the world in the soul I have woken up and hopes are awakening
The star continues to fade in the atmosphere And the light continues to cry in the horizons He who does not strive strives above sorrow
Passion wet a heart with longing And the most beautiful love in Iraq She says surrounded by passion: I I will ride the same Buraq for passion
