مَاذا يَقُولُ النَّدَى فِيْ عَصْفَةِ البَـدَدِ
إِنْ قَالَتِ الرِّيْحُ تَرْتيلاً عَلَـى وَتَـدِ
وَ أنتَ فِي سُبُحَاتِ الوَجْدِ قَيْـدَ يَـدٍ
مِنَ التَّدَانِي وَ حَبْلُ الصَّمْتِ من مَسَدِ
مَاذا تَقُوْلُ الجِبَالُ الصُّـمُّ مُرْسِلَـةً
إلى السَّماواتِ ذِكْرا راسِـخَ الْمَـدَدِ
ِمَنْ لِلْمَجَرَّاتِ تَدْنُـوْ مِنْـكَ راهِبَـةًً
فِيْ رَهْبَةِ اللَيْلِ ِإِذْ أَوْقَـدْتَ أَوْ تَقِـدِ
When you're sick No more things are living today All your ghosts are going to pray No more life blazing in the sky All the wings cease and wonder why When you're sick, lying on your bed Like a queen but with tears you shed Let the wind bring to you some leaves Where your birds wrote some golden weaves Take the leaves and make them good nest Make your heart be in holy rest After eight show it some moonlight Then let in near your one who might All your dreams, when sick, are near God Stronger faith will lighten the blood Thus pour tears weeping on your wands magic world is between your hands When you're sick let me kiss your hand Smell the fresh layer of your tears Let my fear hidden in my wears God will then save you to the End. Sheendahl
..الــطـــبــيــعــةُ الــطــبــعُ و الــتـَّـطـَـبــع
تـَـــرْنـِـــيـْـــمٌ مـِـــنَ الـــنـَّـــزَق؟
... أم دَمـْـــعـَـــة ٌ مـِــنَ الـشـَّـــفـَـــق؟
