A Southern Farmer
I am a farmer from the south bring nothing in my pocket but oranges. Look at my face, it is brown and look at my hands, they are white. I am from here, from the south; an Eastern man with a dreamy soul. Yes, I am a dreamer from the south; my heart bears nothing but simple love and my mouth smiles without cause.


An Old Farmer
I'm an old farmer, know the amazing colors of the flowers’ hearts where the blue dreams wear their shiny dresses and the whispers make a sunny cake for the morning’s birds. When the squirrel travels through the green songs, all the flavors take their pink veils and when the rivers chant their daring stories, every girl immerse in her blue dreams. They fill the times with a stormy passion and plant smiles in our dry deserts. In their sleepy eyes, you can see the river’s secrets and from their loud whispers, you may know the silent wishes.

A Mute Farmer
When that southern bird has seen our dreams, he opened his book. He knows our farmery hearts and his hand, which had come from the remote valley, colors the moon face with a laugh. O dreamy bird, this is my farmery love sits behind my eyes. Can you see it? Can you hear its muteness? Here is my pretend; a colored veil covers my fire and a shy smile bears my coldness over warm wings.It is me; the mute farmer.

The Soul of Light
When the roads open their eyes, all the blue fish will come to my sea. The road is a smile exits its pink  ear from that window which sleeps on my mother hands. Without any delay, I am disappearing in the mother's light. My heart, like a bird on an icy bough, will immerse in that moment comes from her chant;the soul of light. My love is that wind which can cross all clouds, and that grass which hug all world goats, but the mother light is a different world and impossible in its oneness.


The Wings of Light
When the morning’s happiness poured, and the foggy shadow secluded, at that moment I knew that the sun had a pure splendid face and the wings of light went to laugh with their full days. When the mask of darkness falls, I will see all the towers and the glorious rain chants on your hands. O great Mary, from your heart corners all the dreams of white rivers come.I watch your light wings and see your words on the lake’s face: “The man of peace will defeat darkness by every loved word." .

The Tales of Light
Where the secret springs of the universe have been immersed in the dust of clayish towns and misted by their brown breeze, I saw your azure trees smiled at the waterfalls and your carnelian submerged in ice tobacco of Mashu Mountain. The white wings of your blooming spirit told the earth the tales of light, that had been colored by a shawl of a girl gathering the date from her grandfather garden. So, the mightiness of earth bends with astonishment at your old glitter and as a long distance which was crossed by bare feet, it flies as spatial vehicle had seen a new face of moon.

When you reach those remote lands and when you see my pain, please ignite a candle in our cold night, and make this sleepy world know something about the truthful light. I know; you can't remember the souls of the flowers which know nothing but beauty but when we drown deeply in our dreams and when you meet all the possible illuminations, at that time you may find the windy fingers of the poet.

The Gypsy Girl

I like the quiet lakes and their reviving breeze, where the water’s eyes are always sleepy. You can't imagine his red cheek in the winter nights. I remember when my mother had made a nice hat for him. My mother is so expert in the seasonal souls and she told me that the autumn is a gypsy girl. I didn't see autumn, but I am sure that my mother saw her because she described her face precisely. She told me that Autumn is flying between the trees’ branches as a small bird and leaving her veil weaving airily in our souls. Sometimes I feel that Autumn is a fairy and you may see her stormy tale swimming deeply in our dreams’ water.    


A Gypsy Tent

I am not a hippie, but I seriously had thought to live in the forest without cooker or air-conditioner, just wood for the fire, and if you don’t agree, I will leave the fire for you. I will drink the river water with the birds and eat the greens with the deer. I will sleep under a tent without walls or doors. I will leave all your walls and all my closed doors for you. I will take a gypsy tent because I wish to dream at the night widely and chant at morning loudly.

A Gypsy Wagon

My grandfather had a beautiful horse with a heart filled with compassion and kindness. I didn't see her, but they said that she was legendarily clever and brave. My family might have possessed a wagon. I don't know and I didn't ask about this, but I think if we had one, it will be closed as the desert’s soul. I am an Arab man and you know there is nothing here but desert, so I decided to bring a gypsy wagon to my home to learn my children the freedom.