اللهم عجل لولیک الفرج. آمین یا رب العالمین.
دیشب یه مطلب جالب کوتاه به ذهنم رسید. خواستم اینجا بنویسمش. گفتم ولش کن فردا. امروز بادم رفته که اون مطلب از بیخ و بن چه بود. فکر کنم یادم آمد.
فریزر تو دفتر خاطرات باباش داشت میخواند که نوشته بود:
"میگن هر آدمی یه قیمتی داره که حاضره به خاطرش هرکاری بکنه.
من دوست دارم درست برعکسشو فکر کنم. هر مردی یه مرزی داره. مرزی که ازش عبور نمی کنه؛ مهم نیست قیمتش چی باشه"
متن قشنگیه ولی فکر نمیکنم متن نصف شبی دیشب من باشه.
شعر زیبا و دلپذیریه. لینک صفحه ای که میشه ازش دانلود کرد پایین صفحه هست.
پاییز آمد در میان درختان لانه کرده کبوتر از تراوش باران میگریزد
خورشید از غم با تمام غرورش پشت ابر سیاهی عاشقانه به گریه مینشیند
من با قلبی به سپیدی صبح با امید بهاران میروم به گلستان
همچو عطر اقاقی لابلای درختان مینشینم
باشد روزی به امید بهاران روی دامن صحرا لاله روید
شعر هستی بر زبانم جاری / پر توانم آری / میروم در کوه و دشت و صحرا
رهپیمای قلهها هستم من / راه خود در توفان / در کنار یاران مینوردم
دارم امید که دهد روزی / سختی کوهستان / بر روان و جانم / پاکی این کوه و دشت و صحرا
باشد روزی برسد به جهان / شهر هستی بر لب / جان نهاده بر کف / راه انسانها را در نوردم
رهپیمای قلهها هستم من / راه خود در توفان / در کنار یاران مینوردم
در کوهستان یا کویر تشنه / یا که در جنگلها / رهنوردی شاد و پر امیدم
شعر هستی / بودن و کوشیدن / رفتن و پیوستن / از کژی بگسستن / جان فدا کردن در راه حق است
لینک دانلود از این صفحه
اه از ان ساعتی که با تن چاک چاک
نهادی ای تشنه لب صورت خود روی خاک
تنت به سوز و گداز تو گرم راز و نیاز
سوی خیام حرم دو چشم تو مانده باز
امده از خیمه گه خواهر غم دیده ات
دید که شمر از جفا نشسته بر سینه ات
گفت بده مهلتی تا برسم بر سرش
برادرم تشنه است مبر سر از پیکرش
زینبت از خیمه ها خدا خدا می کند
فاطمه در قتلگاه تو را صدا می کند
چرا صدا میزنی با نفس اخرت
ناله یا فاطمه میرسد از حنجرت
برادرم خون تو می چکد از نیزه ها
من به سرم میزنم تو میزنی دست و پا
روایتهای فراوانی از اتفاقات روز عاشورا وجود دارد. در مقتل مقرم، سید عبدالرزاق مقرم (ره) خطبه خواندن سیدالشهدا را در روز عاشورا چنین روایت می کند:
It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox.
"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."
"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean--'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . ."
"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"
"Yes."
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"No."
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No."
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . ."
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . ."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . ."
The next day the little prince came back.
"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . ."
"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarassed.
And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . ."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . ."
دی شیخ با چراغ همیگشت گرد شهر
کز دیو و دد ملولم و انسانم آرزوست
گفتند یافت مینشود جستهایم ما
گفت آنک یافت مینشود آنم آرزوست
بنمای رخ که باغ و گلستانم آرزوست
بگشای لب که قند فراوانم آرزوست
ای آفتاب حسن برون آ دمی ز ابر
کان چهره مشعشع تابانم آرزوست
بشنیدم از هوای تو آواز طبل باز
باز آمدم که ساعد سلطانم آرزوست
گفتی ز ناز بیش مرنجان مرا برو
آن گفتنت که بیش مرنجانم آرزوست
وان دفع گفتنت که برو شه به خانه نیست
وان ناز و باز و تندی دربانم آرزوست
در دست هر که هست ز خوبی قراضههاست
آن معدن ملاحت و آن کانم آرزوست
این نان و آب چرخ چو سیلست بیوفا
من ماهیم نهنگم عمانم آرزوست
یعقوب وار وااسفاها همیزنم
دیدار خوب یوسف کنعانم آرزوست
والله که شهر بیتو مرا حبس میشود
آوارگی و کوه و بیابانم آرزوست
زین همرهان سست عناصر دلم گرفت
شیر خدا و رستم دستانم آرزوست
جانم ملول گشت ز فرعون و ظلم او
آن نور روی موسی عمرانم آرزوست
زین خلق پرشکایت گریان شدم ملول
آنهای هوی و نعره مستانم آرزوست
گویاترم ز بلبل اما ز رشک عام
مهرست بر دهانم و افغانم آرزوست
دی شیخ با چراغ همیگشت گرد شهر
کز دیو و دد ملولم و انسانم آرزوست
گفتند یافت مینشود جستهایم ما
گفت آنک یافت مینشود آنم آرزوست
هر چند مفلسم نپذیرم عقیق خرد
کآن عقیق نادر ارزانم آرزوست
پنهان ز دیدهها و همه دیدهها از اوست
آن آشکار صنعت پنهانم آرزوست
خود کار من گذشت ز هر آرزو و آز
از کان و از مکان پی ارکانم آرزوست
گوشم شنید قصه ایمان و مست شد
کو قسم چشم صورت ایمانم آرزوست
یک دست جام باده و یک دست جعد یار
رقصی چنین میانه میدانم آرزوست
میگوید آن رباب که مردم ز انتظار
دست و کنار و زخمه عثمانم آرزوست
من هم رباب عشقم و عشقم ربابیست
وان لطفهای زخمه رحمانم آرزوست
باقی این غزل را ای مطرب ظریف
زین سان همیشمار که زین سانم آرزوست
بنمای شمس مفخر تبریز رو ز شرق