من درد تو را زدست اسان ندهم دل بر نکنم ز دوست تا جان ندهم از دوست به یادگار دردی دارم کان درد به صد هزار درمان ندهم مولانا

kiss

She blew him a kiss

It was shaped like her lips
He caught it with pride
For it had made quite a trip.
Over the cities
And the great sea.
A wondrous voyage
It had turned out to be.
So once it arrived
It was placed with great care
On the forehead belonging
To a most royal heir.
He smiled as he felt it
Rush through his veins.
This kiss that brought with it
The cure for his pains.

می‌دونی آدم‌ها هیچ وقت از دوست داشتن هم‌ديگه سیر نمی‌شوند. همیشه چیزی کم است. چیزی مثل پنجره‌هایی که رو به بلندی باز می‌شوند...