됐달. 됐달.

“And when your soul, the flame, the spark, meets with the divine fuel that is so pure and so strong, it results in immense enlightenment: the enlightenment of God. Light upon light, Noorun Alaa Noor.”
― Zain Hashmi, A Blessed Olive Tree: A Spiritual Journey in Twenty Short Stories

“She wore a summer dress and it smelled of Hawaii- of the ocean, sun, teriburgers and plumeria. I squeezed her dress in my hand, wanting to be back there.”
― Alex Brunkhorst, The Gilded Life of Matilda Duplaine

“Here there was a cheerful boy
At least he created tales and lived in joy.
Nursery rhymes his grandmother told,
Songs and tales emerged gladly in gold.

Caring heart, affection spoke loud as brighter,
He made the decision: he would be a writer!
Rising laughters, crying tears, many feelings,
Inserted everything and nothing was in vain.
So he transformed the ugly into beautiful,
Tales to amuse and make everyone sane,
In there he went, without daydreams or zeal.
As such it was born the icon of literature still.
No one denied he was exceedingly bountiful.

A ballerina loves the soldier in his world,
Nothing gets involved in his fairy tales,
Dancing from a poor weak boy to a king,
Eccentric prince of charm in winged corners!
Rare star of sweet tenderness,
Sensible and masterful in tenderness,
Emchanted kingdom of dreams and candor,
Now a divine fire of a soul he shines.

Havia um menino alegre porem so
Ao menos criava contos e deles vivia
Nas historias que contava sua avo,
Seus contos surgiam pois ele os via.

Carinho nao faltava em seu coracao ator,
Havia tomado a decisao: seria escritor!
Risos, lagrimas, sentimentos saos,
Inseria tudo e nada era em vao.
Transformava ate o feio em belo,
Inadvertia e divertia com seu elo,
Adiante ia, sem devaneios e zelo.
Nascia assim o icone da literatura.

A bailarina ama o soldado em seu mundo,
Nada se interpunha em seus contos de fadas,
De pobre menino fraco e cogitabundo,
Era principe de encantos em cantos alados!
Rara estrela de doce brandura,
Sensata e magistral em ternura,
Em seu reino de sonhos e candura,
No fogo divino de sua alma fulgura.”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, ACross Tic

“The leaves on the trees we approached were a molten gold, like an artist had taken a sunset and poured it over the forest, and the crisp smell of the coming winter floated on the autumn breeze. It was early afternoon, and the birds sang bright and loud in the treetops.”
― Ashley Poston, Among the Beasts & Briars