434268
Hamed βŒβ—¨-β—¨πŸŽ©πŸŽ­β“‚οΈ

@hamedns #434268

A nurse who works in the field of yoga and meditation 🀍 πŸ§˜πŸ»β€β™‚οΈ
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What is the benefit to me if you are wise?
Be beautiful and be sad
Tears add beauty to the face
Like a river that overlooks the landscape
The storm refreshes the flowers...

Poet: Charles Baudelaire / France, 1821-1867
I still know
which is the result of fear and madness
life
I know this too
which is the result of fear and forgetfulness
the future
But I don't understand
What future is this?
And what happens?
result of fear
in fear
And what is the other comfort?
We in childhood
We learned to count
for what

Poet: Erich Fried / Austria, 1921-1988
Life sits on an old chair
In a spacious house guarded by death.
Death sits on a new chair
In a narrow house, even for a single step
that life takes it, it does not fit.
But, where is the problem?

Poet: #Adonis [Syria, 1930]
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The fateful day is coming
talk to me
I am your destiny
If you ask me did I like it?
I embrace its simplicity
For long periods of time
Will my heart be sad and mourn?
Now it is completely silent
Do you feel you don't need anything else?
I'm not sure
Sometimes I felt you next to me
Can I say this?
Even when I feel like I don't have you by my side
I know I've always had you with me
talk to me
No, there was no need for words
you are
Even if I don't say it
everyone knows
what i like
What a regret
I know you will come to me one day
I try in vain to change something
Are you overly sensitive?
He hesitated
Like a blind beggar who longs for caress
This is how I am
Sometimes I wanted to turn on my back
I couldn't go away/turn my head/
I am sure that one day you will come to me


Poet: #Han_Kang [Han Kang / South Korea, 1970]
I wrote an obituary
The autumn winds repeated it:
Autumn teaches us how to survive!

Poet: Adunis [Adunis / Syria, 1930]
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Loud sobs
Autumn violin
With a sweet and monotonous sadness
my heart
it stings

Short of breath and tired
when the bell rings
to announce the time
I remember the old days
i cry
And in the evil wind
that takes me from here to there
He takes it with him
I will go like this
as if
I am a withered leaf.
Loud sobs
Autumn violin
With a sweet and monotonous sadness
my heart
it stings

Poet: Paul Verlaine (France, 1844-1896)
this
with you sometimes
There is no sunken weight in the watch.
It is a different weight
this

It's the weight that holds the empty,
that with you
I wanted
There is no name for weight like you. maybe
You are both one. maybe
You also feed me
such a name
The
Poet: Paul Celan [Romania, 1920-1970]
The art of living is the art of being in the moment
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I always love using plants in room design and beautification. πŸͺ΄