As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —
Poor man ..
walla za3alnny 3alleh ..
loneliness is an awful felling ..
Thnx Dear Nice Poem
SaLaM..
from Egypt
said:Asalam 3alaykom,
Yes karin,my dear he had a hard life..
lonliness is the worst feeling ever..mat allah have mercy on us and we would never feel it..
one have a million people around him and yet he dies from within..but i think he wrote that poem beautifully..
thanks so much for coming..so sweet:)
Ya 7aram ...that is soooo sad :(
from Egypt
said:asalam 3alaykom,
Artemis..i want to thank you for being such a great friend and for going over previous posts..that is not often..thank you so much:)
from United States
said:Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
bismillah
assalamu alaikum
I have a book of First World War poems written by soldiers (mostly British) on the front. Here is one of my favorites:
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying tonight or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be for what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me,
disappoint.
from United States
said:hmm..stating what I hope to be obvious, the first line of my previous post is the first line of the poem...sorry about that
from United States
said:hmm..stating what I hope to be obvious, the first line of my previous post is the first line of the poem...sorry about that
from Egypt
said:Asalam 3alaykom,
Wow..that is one great poem..thank you so much abdel rahman..
May allah grant you the best in life and paradise ..ameen:)
from Saudi Arabia
said:thecaller
السلام عليكم
There are a lot of glooms in these words
I fear the feeling of loneliness and infirmity
from Egypt
said:Asalam 3alaykom,
EH YA TUTTI ELKALAM ELGAMED DA????
:):):)
<<Home
from Germany
Edgar Allan Poe ... a real poor guy. He was an orphan at the age of three and became only fourty years old - finally died as consequence of alcohol-abuse. He lived a very unhappy and yes, lonely life.
Loneliness - that is the biggest and most tragic social problem here in the West - and getting worse. Old people are isolated., lonely and even the younger - loneliness, INNER loneliness is widest-spread. It sometimes takes only a smile to make someone else's day .. to help him climb the ladder a bit - and yet, so many forget it and are ignorant.
BE HAPPY this problem is less crucial in your culture where at least the old people are not left alone ... it's sad here, really sad.