Most hazardous is the evening
Falling overhead of living spirits,
Dousing them all
In which just owls scream and jackals snarl,
Also, everlasting murkiness covers every one of the windows.
Most intolerable is the heading
In which the sun of the spirit light
Penetrates the east of your body.
Most misleading isn't the
theft of hard acquired compensation.
Most terrible isn't the torment of police
Most hazardous isn't unite taken for voracity and conspiracy.
Interpretation of Indian writer Pash's sonnet by Dr.Satnam Singh Sandhu of Punjabi College, Patiala
Verse Of A Self observer, [11/20/2019 6:22 PM]
Genuine LOVE
On my eyes the last picture saved is yours.
On my veins what slithered is your affection.
I have faked a great deal of things anticipate cherishing you.
I opened up since the very start.
Your adoration keeps me gave up,
Toward the side of your heart.
At the point when I figured out you are the decency.
Giving you every last bit of me may be less.
Then I said I need to track down another means.
The trial of your lips actually waiting on mine.
The thoroughly search in your eyes causes me to freak out.
I have really taken a look at my sentiments multiple times.
Yet it's you I track down in each page of my life.
HUNN??
Verse Of A Self observer, [11/21/2019 3:14 AM]
Battle
Is life about battling? I ask myself.
Glance around;
Individuals battling for power,
Battling for name and notoriety.
Wounding and killing one's brethren.
Then, at that point, there are poor people,
Battling for a day's food.
The powerless as a top priority;
Battling to be the fittest for endurance.
What is life then, at that point?
In the event that everything unquestionably revolves around battling?
That is the point at which a mother held her infant interestingly.
What's more, her dearest kissed her temple as they watched another life on the planet.
A bird took off high,
A bug at long last made it's web.
Once more, what's more, the feeble on a fundamental level stoop up.
To attempt to confront everyday hardship.
Life peered down to me,
Also, I grinned at to it.
As acknowledgment struck,
Life merits battling for!
Composed by Hannah Gigi
Verse Of A Loner, [11/21/2019 6:00 AM]
WE
We the unfilled pocket,
We the neediness companion,
We the withering craving,
Yet, we the most joyful still.
We the brush off,
We the foot who is exposed,
We the parched throat,
Yet, we the wonderful pigeon still.
We the uninformed understudy,
We the filthy torn shirt,
We the smell that smell,
Be that as it may, we the future still.
HUNN
Verse Of A Loner, [11/22/2019 1:49 AM]
Coming by Woods on a Frigid Night
by Robert Ice
Whose woods these are I assume I know.
However, his home is in the town;
He won't see me halting here
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