[Ishrag Dirar]

المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة
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حين تتخلق الدهشة من بين سطورك، وتضحك أشواقك الجامحة، وتبدأ ذاكرتك في ابتداع أنموذج خرافي لحبيب مستحيل، سيتمتع الناس، والقراء، وأنا منهم، من نبيل بوحك، وأناقة قلمك، يرسلون آهاتهم الملونة، وينامون في خدر لذيذ من بديع أوهامك المنسوجة من بريق الحروف.
حين يغرقون في النشوة تلك، لم يدروا بنشيجك، ولا أنينك المتقطع ولا تلك الآلام المبرحة التي تمزق نياط قلبك، وأنت تتخبطين في دمائك، لتحمر الورود، وتغرد الأطيار من أنينك ، وفي اضمحلال نورك، يرون إشراقك، وهم يهللون ويرقصون طرباً طربا، ليتهم يعلمون ، إذن لهراقوا دموعهم ولطواهم الصمت وأحنوا الجباه!

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أستاذي عالم ..
هذه رسالة من اوراق اظن ان الريح لن تذروها ....
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My dear Old friend,

My love
Is as real, as well as I am!
The crux of the matter is what between us, that is and will remain the reality!

The sacred flame that is glowing inside our hearts was, is and will continue to inspire us more than that you had seen! You had seen just that part of the iceberg; more is yet to be discovered. Not by you, as you has heard, seen nothing, but even by and for us, we, the real adventurers and explorers!

There are one million summits waiting for us to climb. What we have reached, so far, was only the tenth. What you have read was even at level lower than that.

My words which you read were not just words written by a pen and ink. They were written by burning flesh, evaporating blood and shrinking nerves. Cause when we were burning in the inferno of our love, no words can tolerate to express the glowing ,melting, overwhelming lava that we were in!

That,, what you had seen and admired, were the only ashes left from our souls. We are the children of the eternity!

Though you are my old friend, yet your experience in love miracles falls short, very short.
The words I've written, which you didn’t yet read are so stupendous, so fascinating that they might turn you into ashes if you really got that taste of beauty and admiration!

My love is a real being, when I wrote my words to him, and I am addressing a true existing human being and not a legendry spirit, though that was also a truth somehow, since still there are some people doubt our existence.

Finally, we portray the images of our beloved as we see them by our vigilant hearts and not just normal eyes. That shows us the true picture of them as well as ours. Alas to the poor blind, those who can hardly see, neither except by eyes nor feel except by fingers!!

That is what I see my love , my eternal beauty and that is what , perhaps, he might see me!
Yours
me
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