If you are the piece of cloud over a hill, or the gravel on a road,
The knife’s scratch on a tree trunk, or the kite string in the hands of a kid,

Don’t be sad..
Don’t be sad if you’re not a hill, a road, a tree, or a kite itself..

The beauty of the sky over the hill, the charming sound of the cart’s wheels on the stony road,
The remembrance of an old memory under the tree, the kite’s take-off in the blue sky,

نوشته شده در یکشنبه 89/5/3ساعت 6:4 عصر توسط اعتراف های یک ایرانی مسافر نظرات ( ) | |