Like a childhood dream, like the wings of a fluttering plaza, the feast appears in people’s eyes, and its mornings are joyful, and the village is the most joyful in the feast, because it has not yet dressed in serenity and has not taken off its incense cloak with smoke, and has not given up the smoke of puree to feed loved ones and neighbors.
This is how the village is built of good conduct, and when noise occurs close to it, it avoids disturbing, so it sends a verbal message to the bird in order to quickly submit and begin to chant its tweets in order to add an atmosphere of romance as usual, and as the village lived on while threatening its residents, and patted their shoulders suggestively To them that life is not straight without a space of calm, surrounded by serenity.
Since a long time and the village has arranged the conscience of its residents in this way, and therefore when the holiday comes, you do not find it difficult to receive it with joy and comfort and to provide everything possible to express warmth on this religious and social occasion. Old age, because between childhood and the village is a lifeline that extends from the sleep of childhood to the root of a ghafa that resides at the edge of a desert village.
Childhood is the song of the village that the city forgot when it moved away from itself, among the tall mountains of aged lions.
As we are at the end of the holy month, we see the feast peeking through the window of the young ones who are preparing to receive it and buy the most beautiful clothes to meet the beloved of the heart. Children are the message or the bell that folds over the meaning of life.
The content of love, and the essence of happiness, are the ones who point us to the place of joy and point to their hearts when the holiday is mentioned, so we see the little hands resting in its shade to the north, there where the pendulum of the pulses hides, there the songbird always settles, and the narrator is the story of man and life, the relationship of life and joy, and the ability of Love to create joy even in the most difficult situations of life. In the village, the form of love is clear and pure and white like the clothes of childhood in the feast, like a star that shines in the nights of the village without being chased by the artificial lights.
The word Eid carries with it the smell of kohl between the two eyelids of a wild pigeon rushing to soar in the heart of the ocean, and it tells the story of the yearning in the hearts of lovers on the morning of a village feast that rejoices in a human mood open to existence, while it is at the peak of its compliance with a life that is renewed, but it does not lose its earthy luster, and does not lose its luster. The skill of poplar eyes in their blazing radiators.
#Eid #wear #white