Lady Breeze

Fourteen years ago, I had a dream. A bitter - sweet one. A dream that kept me with butterfly. and joyous of a child. I prayed and Prayed. I prayed so hard day and night. I imagined, I planed, every second and every moment. Day after day, Year after year. Decades passed away until my dream faded away. Chattels have been forgotten Yearning, has been lost. Longing, has gone by the wind Little did I know, by the time I’ll grow. Perspectives, shaped me. Standpoint, evolved me. Time passes, Prayers answered, God responses. But difficult was it  to perceive it. Doors were open once again. To the moment We’ve been all waiting for. It’s right here in front of you. Sweep hands for second chances  and new beginnings. Warm words to heal the wounds. Sorrow and grief  I could see in your hazel brown eyes. But you forgot, you may forgive but never forget. Tried so hard ...

على قَدْر حُلْمكَ تَتَسع الأرضُ - محمود درويش -

Il a mis le café Dans la tasse Il a mis le lait Dans la tasse de café Il a mis le sucre Dans le café au lait Avec la petite cuiller Il a tourné Il a bu le café au lait Et il a reposé la tasse Sans me parler Il a allumé Une cigarette Il a fait des ronds Avec la fumée Il a mis les cendres Dans le cendrier Sans me parler Sans me regarder Il s’est levé Il a mis Son chapeau sur sa tête Il a mis Son manteau de pluie Parce qu’il pleuvait Et il est parti Sous la pluie Sans une parole Sans me regarder Et moi j’ai pris Ma tête dans mes mains Et j’ai pleuré. Jacques Prévert

The sunshine on the long white road  That ribboned down the hill, The velvet clematis that clung Around your window-sill Are waiting for you still.  Again the shadowed pool shall break  In dimples at your feet, And when the thrush sings in your wood, Unknowing you may meet Another stranger, Sweet.  And if he is not quite so old As the boy you used to know, And less proud, too, and worthier, You may not let him go--- (And daisies are truer than passion-flowers)  It will be better so. Roland Leighton to Vera Brittain

Violets from Plug Street Wood, Sweet, I send you oversea. (It is strange they should be blue, Blue, when his soaked blood was red, For they grew around his head: It is strange they should be blue.) Think what they have meant to me - Life and hope and Love and You (and you did not see them grow Where his mangled body lay Hiding horrors from the day; Sweetest, it was better so.) Violets from oversea, To your dear, far, forgetting land These I send in memory Knowing you will understand. Roland Leighton to Vera Brittain

Down the long white road we walked together Down between the grey hills and the heather, Where the tawny-crested Plover cries. You seemed all brown and soft, just like a linnet, Your errant hair had shadowed sunbeams in it, And there shone all April In your eyes. With your golden voice of tears and laughter Softened into song 'Does aught come after Life,' you asked 'When life is Laboured through? What is God and all for which we're striving?' 'Sweetest sceptic, we were born for living; Life is Love, and Love is--- You, dear, you.' Roland Leighton to Vera Brittain

It took me such a long time to figure it out. It’s only after I understood.  I realised we are so much alike. Only after I felt there is something missing. Just after all these years has passed. It took me so much time to grasp it.  But I twigged it. I found it and I know what I want.  Please come home!

تقولين لي أنك تخافين الحب. لماذا تخافينه يا صغيرتي؟ أتخافين نور الشمس؟ أتخافين مدَّ البحر؟ أتخافين طلوع الفجر؟ أتخافين مجيء الربيع؟ لما يا ترى تخافين الحب؟ أنا أعلم أن القليل في الحب لا يرضيك، كما أعلم أن القليل في الحب لا يرضيني. أنت وأنا لا ولن نرضى بالقليل. نحن نريد الكثير. نحن نريد كل شيء. نحن نريد الكمال. لا تخافي الحب يا ماري، لا تخافي الحب يا رفيقة قلبي، علينا أن نستسلم إليه رغم ما فيه من الألم والحنين والوحشة ورغم ما فيه من الالتباس والحيرة. ―  جبران خليل جبران

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. Rumi

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't always mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child and you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight. After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. And you learn that you really can endure you really are strong you really do have worth and you learn and you learn with every goodbye, you learn...   Veronica A. Shoffstall

انا العاقل وانا والمجنون وانا الفرحان وانا المحزون انا اللى فى عشقى مالى زى انا اللى فات وانا اللى جاى انا صغير يهد الكون انا الواثق ومتحير انا الثابت ومتغير انا الصامد فى وش الريح وانا الحر اللى متسير انا اللى الجرح يوجعنى وانا القادر على الاحزان انا اللى الناس بتسمعنى يقولوا اكيد ضعيف غلبان انا اللى عكس كل كلامهم انا اللى ضعيف فى اوهامهم وعايش بين شجاع وجبان انا العاصى ومتدين فى كل ادان اقوم اصلى عاصى بصلاته متزين وانا الصادق كتير كداب انا اللى سعيد عايش فى عذاب غشيم فى الدنيا و حنين انا الموهوم بأحلامى وحالف بردو ما هسيبها انا المؤمن بأوهامى واى حقيقة اكدبها انا اللى ماشى عكس الكون انا العاقل انا المجنون   عمرو بردانه

I’m a globie girl that wants to explore as much as possible of the world and get do know more about different cultures. I was born to travel. (Will get to the travelling part later) I am from Cairo and have Turkish roots like most of Egyptians. I was born in Vienna, were I was raised and spent my teen - year’s. Vienna plays a big role in my life. If I started to talk about my love to this country, it’s a never-ending love story and I won’t finish today. - I need to finish because I still got a lot to do for today, maybe in another post -.  People who know me very well, know that I regard Egypt my country and my home, but not only because of my roots, family and friends who live there, but because I truthfully love it. There is something about Egypt and until this moment know one has figured out what is this “Something”. If you talked to any Egyptian who lived abroad especially in a not Middle Eastern country, he will understand what I’m saying. Unfortunately, Egyptians...

كلها حاجات بسيطة وأد إيه بتفرق معايا أد إيه.. زي إيه..؟ ... زي لما الفرحة تيجي لوحدها زي إحساس بالرضا وزي ما حبك كده وزي دمعة طيبة أرتاح بعدها وماعرفش ليه.. وزي إيه.. زي وردة ف عيد ميلادي وزي يوم بسيط وعادي عدي لكن مانستهوش.. وكلمة حلوة سمعتها من قلب حد ماعرفهوش.. زي ما فضفض معاك بكلمتين.. وف وسطهم أسرح تقوللي روحت فين.. وزي إحساس بالأمان لما ليلة أبات ف حضن أصغر ولادي.. وزي غنوة من بعيد فيها من ريحة بلادي كلها حاجات بسيطة وأد إيه بتفرق معايا.. أد إيه..                                                                                ...

„Fast wünschte ich mir, wir wären Schmetterlinge und lebten nur drei Sommertage lang. Drei solcher Tage mit dir könnte ich mit mehr Entzücken füllen als fünfzig gewöhnliche Jahre jemals fassen könnten“ - John Keats Romantik, ist einer meiner Liebling Literaturepochen. (Daher kein wunder wenn ich viel über dieser Zeit schreibe!) Im heutigen, allgemeinen Sprachgebrauch bezeichnet der Begriff Romantik mit dem Adjektiv romantisch die Eigenschaft einer Sache oder eines Ereignisses, Menschen mit Liebe und Sehnsucht zu erfüllen, so etwa in den Wortverbindungen „romantische Liebe“, „romantische Musik“ oder „ein romantischer Brief“. Doch Früher gab es ja die „Romantik“, eine kulturgeschichtliche Epoche , die im   19. Jahrhundert spielte und sich insbesondere auf den Gebieten der bildenden Kunst , der Literatur und der Musik äußerte. Der Begriff kommt ursprünglich von „in lingua romana“ , also von Schriften, die in der Volkssprache der romanischen Länder verfasst waren. Die...

One of the great classics of all literature, Homer’s “Odyssey,” tells of the return of the hero Ulysses to the island of Ithaca , where his wife Penelope has been waiting for him for over ten years. Ulysses undergoes all sorts of challenges but eventually returns home. Many centuries later, another Greek poet, Constantine Cavafys , dealt with this homecoming in a different manner, creating one of the most beautiful metaphors of this journey in search of our dreams. While the drama of the “Odyssey” centers on the difficulties in arriving and in the suffering of the beloved wife, in Cavafys’ poetry exactly the opposite is asked of Ulysses: he should enjoy the journey and experience all that needs to be lived. Below, the poem by Cavafis: When you set out on your journey to Ithaca pray that the road is long, Full of adventure, full of knowledge. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the angry find such as these on your path if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine emotion touche...

"Ludovico Einaudi - Le Onde" Somewhere far away, There are people loving And People hating. Somewhere out there, You will hear about People laughing And people crying. Somewhere out there There are people searching for their rights And people just enjoying their lives Somewhere far away, Someone might be thinking of me Maybe me too. Somehow people think I’m crazy, But they don’t understand. They say I have gone mad Yea, I might gone mad But they don’t know how I feel ‘cause in the end of the day Someone’s talking back. Every Morning,   I wake up early and train to jump into the sun . It's always so far away. Every Night, When the stars light on my room I sit by myself And wish you would be right next to me It’s somewhere out there, Somewhere far away.