"Walk like a man, even though you walk alone! Why court approval, once the road is known? Let come who will, but if they all stay home, The goal still awaits you: Go on alone! Follow your dream, though it leads to worlds unknown! Life's but a shadow, once your dreams have flown. What if men cry, "Your dream is not our own!" Your soul knows the answer: Go on alone! Give life your heart. Bless everything that's grown. Fear not the loving: All this world's your own. Make rich the soil, but once the seed is sown; Seek Freedom, don't linger: Go on Alone!"
The Perfect Place To Be...
I looked outside the window car Hoping to see something beautiful as a star Instead of seeing a site like that I saw tons of trash eaten by a rat I saw kids throwing their garbage here and there I saw adults smoking with the air that we share
Disappointed, I slept on the way instead I imagined a place majestic as I laid my head I dreamt of the sun setting from the horizon, The sites were magnificent, As beautiful as they can be, with this little bird Flying so high and so free
Closing my eyes I saw this wonderful place Turning my disappointment into a happy face I saw huge trees and grasses so green Flowers blooming like I’ve never seen Mountains so high and the skies so blue Where the trash is minimum and the littering is few
I took out my camera and I just couldn’t wait To take photographs of the nature’s current state I was so happy with what I saw It is like the people here and the nature follows one law To care and respect and show your love To the nature given by our God above
When I opened my eyes I was back to reality Something that I wouldn’t call nature’s destiny The environment taken for granted Trees were cut down In a place where they were planted
In my dreams I usually imagine a place Where birds would fly freely And nature would have the infinite beauty Where people care for the nature’s hope Where every people and creature is happy That is the perfect place for me to be
- angel soriano
Shaher ki es daud me...
Shaher ki es daud me daud ke karna kya hai? Jab yehi jeena hai dosto to phir marna kya hai? Paheli barish me train late hone ki fikr hai Bhul gaye bhigte hue tahelna kya hai? Serials ke kirdaaro ka saara haal hai malum par maa ka haal puchhne ki fursat kise hai? Ab ret pe nange pao tahelte kyu nahi? 108 hai chanel phir dil bahelte kyu nahi? Internet ki duniya ke to touch me hai, lekin pados me kaun rehta hai jaante tak nahi. Mobile, Landline sab ki bharmaar hai, Lekin jigri dost tak pahuche aise taar kaha hai? Kab dubte hue suraj ko dekha tha yaad hai? Kab jaana tha shaam ka woh banana kya hai? To Dosto Shaher ki es daud me daud ke karna kya hai Jab yahi jeena hai to phir Marna kya hai
"You cannot stay on the mountain forever. You have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher. ~ Rene Daumel, Mont Analogue
GOOD-BYE !
Good-bye, proud world! I’m going home; Thou art not my friend, and I’m not thine. Long through thy weary crowds I roam; A river-ark on the ocean brine, Long I’ve been tossed like the driven foam; But now, proud world! I’m going home.
Good-bye to Flattery’s fawning face; To Grandeur with his wise grimace; To upstart Wealth’s averted eye; To supple Office, low and high; To crowded halls, to court and street; To frozen hearts and hasting feet; To those who go, and those who come; Good-bye, proud would! I’m going home.
I am going to my own hearth-stone, Bosomed in yon green hills alone— A secret nook in a pleasant land, Whose groves the frolic fairies planned; Where arches green, the livelong day, Echo the blackbird’s roundelay, And vulgar feet have never trod A spot that is sacred to thought and God.
O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome; And when I am stretched beneath the pines, Where the evening star so holy shines, I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, At the sophist schools and the learned clan; For what are they all, in their high conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet?