I could be a puppet!
Could be drifted in stream!
But, No!
In mountains and rivers,
...
The cold moon in the misty night
hovers over the smelly hills-
And by it, flows the pebble-deep spring
dazzled in leaf-thrown bliss
...
The sun is about to set. New moon appeared in the sky.
If the stars return back
Nobody will stare at the sky
Wayward wind breaths on the island of darkness.
...
I love you, man. Humanity is my religion. I sometimes entertaining, sometimes calm. Still, ever freeze. Sometimes very obstinate, sometimes dukhu broken of trouble. I met a man I'm a man... Azad. With rice or a congenital hostility paijama seriousness. Love to laugh, cry, sing and talk. Handicap people I love around me. I love it because not enough people writing journalism like the drug. What does the sixth day, or losing your mind if you wish amkabuki wrote a book about the mind. Determines whether pure literature, but readers fascinated myself in my writing. Here I am, Kalam Azad, blogs do regularly. Communist politics, political philosophy, convincing. My goal is to change the base)
Under The Light Of Life
I could be a puppet!
Could be drifted in stream!
But, No!
In mountains and rivers,
In moonlit and forests, I scattered thyself!
But there were more! more to search their soul!
They were down but chary,
And at last, returning among lives!
Time keeps running and boasts that-
Soul and certainty- they are different!