Works Writings: Poems, Essays, Articles
When the cold wind shook the tree,
I, an apple, high and free,
Downwards gave to gravity.
Detached from that highest bough,
Worms ate my flesh hungrily;
No hope for help had I though
They left my seeds angrily.
Rains then came so gently down
And washed my seeds fairly deep;
Thus Nature Ma laid me sown
Deep in darkness for a sleep.
When out of soil I grew high,
I heard Cold Wind dully sigh:
"Oh, these apples never die!"
Ali Aizmi, Summer1382
Send your comments
Send your questions
Back to the Beginning
Search for Truth-Words of Wisdom-Useful Information-Farsi
Translators-English Teachers-Persia Tourguides
Let’s Learn the Language-Holy Quran-Persian
Literature-English Literature-Homework Papers-Classwork...
www.Truthwise.net / by: Ali Azimi
This site is for:
“all learners of Knowledge and lovers of Truth”
Copyright 2007 -All