Romo7.base.eth (romo7)

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Poet: Dylan Thomas (1914–1953, Wales 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿)

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I sinned a sin full of pleasure in a warm, passionate embrace. I sinned in arms that were hot and vindictive and iron. Poet: Forugh Farrokhzad (1935–1967) Iranian poet

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In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. Poet: John McCrae (1872–1918, Canada 🇨🇦)

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I want a library like this 😍 Zahir al-Dawleh in his library in Tehran (1924)

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