Is the brightest secret lightning or the light of a lamp,
mother smiling at the suburban view
Oh the misery of a soul that is very sorry,
And the heart of a comforted grandfather cries out to her
And the night turns white if you smile
On the white side of the smatain
it trembles like a twig
The passage of rain from Al-Wasmi Sahah
you found yourself in a position of myself,
she is the refiner, between water and wind
I commend you, for I did not comfort anyone
salute you, And what does Al-Lahi claim?
the night of the palace, and redheads are minor
for fun, between jugs and mugs
You sent two busynesses of the pronunciation of its beauties,
resounding right, The word drunk
Your cheeks are alive, but you are alive by joy
rose rose, apple to apple
How many glances at me through the Levant if I arrived
I narrated the love of Fouad from you, bearded
And the eagle throws its hands in a hurry,
In a mission like the back of a gear
lead to the conquest, And the blindness of that is his,
a praise that every praiser falls short of
the night unfolded from the brilliance of his deception,
from Badr Dajia, or morning sun
polite, The world rises for his appearance,
On white as the blade of a sword
bedwetting, If hopes lie
Dhamad Nile
talents struck in all that is nothing,
richly, and erased all that is available
as if it had become my concern, on its side,
cumulus scattered bosoms, brute force
The conquest has opened the closure of time for us,
what we are trying to do, and excuse
eloquently eloquently on the afflicted, caring,
my imagination, and turn to the high
Those who ran to catch up with him
About him is a curse of the wicked and the wicked
long term without him, even twisted them
by surprise you have gone before him, and clarification
The brightest secret lightning or the light of a lamp – the poet Al-Buhtari
