عجب برگي!

چقدر باحاله... ايول داداش... .

تو رفتی؟؟؟ کاش منم میتونستم بیام

fecr konam aval bar nist ke kasi az madaraye elektiriki mese ye shahr ax migire ... be nazaram hade aghal sooje tekrariye teknike ax bayad saresh be tanesh biyarze na?....m

اگر همه بخوايم مثل mim فکر کنن بايد عکاسي رو بوسيد گذاشت کنار!

The small children whirl about
Like leaves borne upon the wind,
Smashing into
The carefully raked mounds,
Scattering the grim memorials to death.
They laugh to themselves as they twirl,
Oblivious to the world around them
As they hurl leaves through the air.
Mindless of what time it is,
Not knowing where they have to be,
Not caring what they have to do.
Their only desire, to fling
Stability and orderliness into
The depths of chaos and disorder.

Anger boils within me
Then suddenly fades away,
I smile as my godson, Charles,
Waddles along with his tiny rake in tow
Chasing after his sisters.
I chuckle as all the piles are scattered,
And I laugh as my hard work is undone by
Impish hands and smiling faces
It is then, as I drag order forth from chaos,
I realize how much I have aged.
It is then, as I drag the barrel of leaves into the woods,
I realize how much I have matured.

Suddenly the innocent laughter of children reaches my ears,
As I hear the echoes of long-forgotten chapters of my life,
Chapters to which I can never return.
I realize then how much I miss my past.
And how I would trade everything I had,
If I could just go back to being a child,
To once more enjoy the present and not care about tomorrow.
To again play in the many leaf piles of youth,
To savor the chaos of life
By toppling the structures of age.

ghabool nist, kalak zadi. in ke aks nist. gheraphic hast.