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The Story Of Our Lives by Mark Strand
6
The day goes on.
We study what we remember.
We look into the mirror across the room.
We cannot bear to be alone.
The book goes on.
"They became silent and did not know how to begin
the dialogue which was necessary.
It was words that created divisions in the first place,
that created loneliness.
They waited
they would turn the pages, hoping
something would happen.
They would patch up their lives in secret:
each defeat forgiven because it could not be tested,
each pain rewarded because it was unreal.
They did nothing."
7
The book will not survive.
We are the living proof of that.
It is dark outside, in the room it is darker.
I hear your breathing.
You are asking me if I am tired,
if I want to keep reading.
Yes, I am tired.
Yes, I want to keep reading.
I say yes to everything.
You cannot hear me.
"They sat beside each other on the couch.
They were the copies, the tired phantoms
of something they had been before.
The attitudes they took were jaded.
They stared into the book
and were horrified by their innocence,
their reluctance to give up.
They sat beside each other on the couch.
They were determined to accept the truth.
Whatever it was they would accept it.
The book would have to be written
and would have to be read.
They are the book and they are
nothing else.
نوشته شده توسط زینب در چهارشنبه پانزدهم اسفند 1386 ساعت 9:11 موضوع English Texts | لینک ثابت
The Story Of Our Lives by Mark Strand
4
Before you woke
I read another part that described your absence
and told how you sleep to reverse
the progress of your life.
I was touched by my own loneliness as I read,
knowing that what I feel is often the crude
and unsuccessful form of a story
that may never be told.
"He wanted to see her naked and vulnerable,
to see her in the refuse, the discarded
plots of old dreams, the costumes and masks
of unattainable states.
It was as if he were drawn
irresistably to failure."
It was hard to keep reading.
I was tired and wanted to give up.
The book seemed aware of this.
It hinted at changing the subject.
I waited for you to wake not knowing
how long I waited,
and it seemed that I was no longer reading.
I heard the wind passing
like a stream of sighs
and I heard the shiver of leaves
in the trees outside the window.
It would be in the book.
Everything would be there.
I looked at your face
and I read the eyes, the nose, the mouth . . .
5
If only there were a perfect moment in the book;
if only we could live in that moment,
we could being the book again
as if we had not written it,
as if we were not in it.
But the dark approaches
to any page are too numerous
and the escapes are too narrow.
We read through the day.
Each page turning is like a candle
moving through the mind.
Each moment is like a hopeless cause.
If only we could stop reading.
"He never wanted to read another book
and she kept staring into the street.
The cars were still there,
the deep shade of trees covered them.
The shades were drawn in the new house.
Maybe the man who lived there,
the man she loved, was reading
the story of another life.
She imagine a bare parlor,
a cold fireplace, a man sitting
writing a letter to a woman
who has sacrificed her life for love."
If there were a perfect moment in the book,
it would be the last.
The book never discusses the causes of love.
It claims confusion is a necessary good.
It never explains. It only reveals.
نوشته شده توسط زینب در چهارشنبه پانزدهم اسفند 1386 ساعت 8:24 موضوع English Texts | لینک ثابت
نوشته شده توسط زینب در چهارشنبه پانزدهم اسفند 1386 ساعت 8:24 موضوع English Texts | لینک ثابت
If you look at the nature more carefully, you will find interesting thing:
And naw look at these:
نوشته شده توسط زینب در یکشنبه چهاردهم بهمن 1386 ساعت 9:46 موضوع Picture | لینک ثابت
السلام علیک یا امام حسین (ع)
10th Moharram is a day of mourning for all Muslims. The tragic incident at Kerbala where the righteous Hussain refused to submit to the autocracy of Yazid is an event laden with deep symbolism. Hazrat Imam Husain and his faithful companions preferred to die on the banks of river Euphrates and upheld the struggle of good against the evil.
Khawaja Muinuddin Chisty’s powerful verses epitomise the reverence and devotion of Muslims towards Imam Hussain:
Shah ast Hussain, Badshah ast Hussain
Deen ast Hussain, Deen Panah ast Hussain
Sardad na dad dast, dar dast-e-yazeed,
Haqaa key binaey La ila ast Hussain
Loosely translated
Ruler is Hussain, Emperor is Hussain,
Faith is Hussain , guardian of faith is Hussain .
Offered his head and not the hand to Yazid.
Truly, the mirror of faith is Hussain
نوشته شده توسط زهرا در چهارشنبه بیست و ششم دی 1386 ساعت 17:30 موضوع English Texts | لینک ثابت
نوشته شده توسط زینب در سه شنبه یازدهم دی 1386 ساعت 9:18 موضوع English Texts | لینک ثابت
دلا باید که هر دم یا علی گفت نه هر دم بل دمادم یا علی گفت
نوشته شده توسط زینب در سه شنبه چهارم دی 1386 ساعت 8:9 موضوع Picture | لینک ثابت
Helen Keller
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Occasionally in life there are those moments of unutterable fulfillment which cannot be completely explained by those symbols called words. Their meanings can only be articulated by the inaudible language of the heart.
Kahlil Gibran
To understand the heart and mind of a person, look not at what he has already achieved, but at what he aspires to.
Rumi
The only lasting beauty is the beauty of the heart.
Mother Teresa
A joyful heart is the inevitable result of a heart burning with love.
French Proverb
Gratitude is the heart's memory.
Greek Proverb
The heart that loves is always young.
Chinese proverb
If I keep a green bough in my heart, then the singing bird will come.
نوشته شده توسط زینب در سه شنبه چهارم دی 1386 ساعت 8:8 موضوع English Texts | لینک ثابت
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