“افكار پوچ! از هر حقيقتی بيشتر مرا شكنجه ميكند”
― The Blind Owl
― The Blind Owl
“Our civilized world is nothing but a great masquerade. You encounter knights, parsons, soldiers, doctors, lawyers, priests, philosophers and a thousand more: but they are not what they appear - they are merely masks... Usually, as I say, there is nothing but industrialists, businessmen and speculators concealed behind all these masks.”
―
―
“I have of late—but wherefore
I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of
exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my
disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to
me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy,
the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament,
this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why,
it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent
congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man!
How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties,
in form and moving how express and admirable,
in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man
delights not me—no, nor woman neither, though by
your smiling you seem to say so.”
― Hamlet
I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of
exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my
disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to
me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy,
the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament,
this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why,
it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent
congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man!
How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties,
in form and moving how express and admirable,
in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man
delights not me—no, nor woman neither, though by
your smiling you seem to say so.”
― Hamlet
“در روزهای آخر اسفند
کوچ بنفشههای مهاجر
زيباست
در نيمروز روشن اسفند
وقتی بنفشه ها را از سايه های سرد
در اطلس شميم بهاران
با خاک و ريشه
- ميهن سيارشان –
از جعبههای کوچک و چوبی
در گوشهی خيابان میآورند
جوی هزار زمزمه در من
میجوشد:
ای کاش
ای کاش، آدمی وطنش را
مثل بنفشهها
(در جعبههای خاک)
يک روز میتوانست
همراه خويشتن ببرد هر کجا که خواست
در روشنای باران
در آفتاب پاک”
―
کوچ بنفشههای مهاجر
زيباست
در نيمروز روشن اسفند
وقتی بنفشه ها را از سايه های سرد
در اطلس شميم بهاران
با خاک و ريشه
- ميهن سيارشان –
از جعبههای کوچک و چوبی
در گوشهی خيابان میآورند
جوی هزار زمزمه در من
میجوشد:
ای کاش
ای کاش، آدمی وطنش را
مثل بنفشهها
(در جعبههای خاک)
يک روز میتوانست
همراه خويشتن ببرد هر کجا که خواست
در روشنای باران
در آفتاب پاک”
―
Mamad’s 2025 Year in Books
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