Take a look at this...! by Payam | English, baby! Blogs

Hmm... It has worth to see the details! See...

Payam — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 19:21:31 GMT

Hmm... It has worth to see the details! See...

I see something wrong

Payam — Sun, 24 May 2009 06:52:42 GMT

I see something wrong

Some people care about,
you.
Some people don't care
Would people listen to,
our lies?
Why are people abused
I see something wrong
There are pretty people
There ugly people
People play
People talk
I'm tired of people messing,
With me.
I guess people hate the truth
Some people are bad
Some people care
Others don't
Why do people cry?
This is life
I don't understand
Some people like to talk
Some people like to walk
Why people argue over nothing?
People act crazy
Why are people always cheating?
People that are lost
I admire people that have respect,
for others.

We are the people of the earth
What really goin on?
I really don't know

One of our poet (Hafez) that lived in Iran in the past and his biography.

Payam — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 14:52:57 GMT

One of our poet (Hafez) that lived in Iran in the past and his biography.

First I am going to give you a poem of him that I have memorized that in persian:

I said I long for thee

You said your sorrows will end

Be my moon, rise up for me

Only if it will ascend

I said, from lovers learn

How with compassion burn

Beauties, you said in return

Such common tricks transcend

Your visions, I will oppose

My mind's paths, I will close

You said, this night-farer knows

Another way will descend

With the fragrance of your hair

I'm lost in my world's affair

You said, if you care, you dare

On its guidance can depend

said hail to that fresh air

That the morning breeze may share

Cool is that breeze, you declare

With beloved's air may blend

said, your sweet and red wine

Granted no wishes of mine

You said, in service define

Your life, and your time spend.

I said, when will your kind heart

Thoughts of friendship start?

Said, speak not of this art

Until it's time for that trend

I said, happiness and joy

Passing time will destroy

Said, Hafez, silence employ

Sorrows too will end my friend

Despite his profound effect on Persian life and culture in general and his everlasting popularity and influence, details of his life are far from known and particularly about his early life there is a great deal of more or less mythical anecdote. Some of the early tazkeras (biographical sketches) mentioning Hafez are often considered unreliable or even purely fictitious.One early document discussing Hafez' life is the preface of his Divān written by an unknown (whose name has been suggested to be Moḥammad Golandām) contemporary writer of Hafez.These are reproduced and edited further in the preface of the generally accepted authoritative modern edition of Hafez's Divān known as Qazvini-Ḡani by Moḥammad Qazvini and Qāsem Ḡani.

On the dates of birth and death of Hafez, there are many different proposals by different scholars. However most of the modern scholars, following a proposal by M. Moin, agree that Hafez was born in 1315 and, following an account by Jami, consider 1390 as Hafez date of death.

Judging from his poetry, he must have had a good education, or else found the means to educate himself. Scholars generally agree on the following:

His father Baha'u d-Dīn, who migrated from Isfahan to Shiraz in the time of Atabeks of Fars, is said to have been a coal merchant who died when Hāfez was a child, leaving him and his mother in debt. It seems probable that he met with Attar of Shiraz (Zayn al-Attar), a somewhat disreputable scholar, and became his disciple. He is said to have later become a poet in the court of Abu Ishak, and so gained fame and influence in his hometown. It is possible that Hafez gained a position as teacher in a Qur'anic school at this time.

In his early thirties, Mubariz Muzaffar captured Shiraz and seems to have ousted Hāfez from his position. Hāfez apparently regained his position for a brief span of time after Shah Shuja took his father, Mubariz Muzaffar, prisoner. But shortly afterwards Hāfez was forced into self-imposed exile when rivals and religious characters he had criticized began slandering him. Hāfez fled from Shiraz to Isfahan and Yazd for his own safety.

At the age of fifty-two, Hāfez once again regained his position at court, and possibly received a personal invitation from Shah Shuja, who pleaded with him to return. He obtained a more solid position after Shah Shuja's death, when Shah Mansour ascended the throne for a brief period before being defeated and killed by Tamerlane.

When an old man, Hafez apparently met Tamerlane to defend his poetry against charges of blasphemy.

Hafez tomb in his mausoleum in Shiraz

It is generally believed that Hāfez died at the age of 69. His tomb is located in the Musalla Gardens of Shiraz (referred to as Hāfezieh).

Hāfez took ear to his immense popularity during his lifetime and agreed with many others (then and now) when he wrote:

I have never seen any poetry sweeter than thine, O Hafez,

I swear it by that Koran which thou keepest in thy bosom.

The reallity

Payam — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 12:39:50 GMT

The reallity

Remember this :

The truth is beauty, The beauty is truth

A little of another poem!

Payam — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 20:57:20 GMT

A little of another poem!

There is another sky by Emily Dickinson

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!

Now tell me about your opinion so send your comment here!

A little poem!

Payam — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 20:45:57 GMT

A little poem!

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Now tell me about your feeling.

I think now your thinking and imaginary is different from past until now.Isn't it?

HAHAHAHAHAHAH

I will send more poems...

Poem!

Payam — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 06:43:59 GMT

Poem!

The Highwayman (my favorite poem in the world)

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-- Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle-- His rapier hilt a-twinkle-- His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter-- Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened--his face was white and peaked--
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter-- The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight,
though hell should bar the way."

He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight (O sweet black waves in the moonlight!), And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching-- Marching--marching-- King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window, And Hell at one dark window, For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."

She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight, Cold on the stroke of midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight, Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding-- Riding--riding-- The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.

Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight-- Her musket shattered the moonlight-- Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.

He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter, The landlord's black-eyed daughter, Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway, Down like a dog in the highway, And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding-- Riding--riding-- The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

--------------------

Tell me, O Muse, of those who have traveled far and wide...

---What do you think about it now and how do you feel now?

Just send a comment!~

HELLO ! EVERY 1 !!!!!

Payam — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 06:04:31 GMT

HELLO ! EVERY 1 !!!!!

Hello everybody!
I wanna introduce myself and discuss about my personal things that I would like them or not and just this,this time!
My name is Payam and I am finding good friends in Ebaby and I hope that I can get some good friends that they like me and I like them.
I am Payam as you know and I am going to go to the high school.It means first grade of high school.Now I am 14 year old but some month later I am going to go to be a 15 year old boy!
Things I like:I like to travel all over the world from when I am with my parents until when I have a wife!!!!!
My lessons are good and I am studing my lessons as well!
I am new here and I want to make some good friends here in Ebaby!
One of my problem is the chatrooms.They are terrible.Because they minority don't answer you when I type some texts I never get any answer I don't know why but it is like this!
The speed of the conversations are low and every day it is becoming less.

My alone way!

Payam — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 11:06:06 GMT