Poor Man's Moody Blues , by The Barclay James Harvest
All the nights that I've missed you
All the nights without end
All the times that I've called you
Only needing a friend
Now your eyes shine with beauty
That I missed long ago
Guess the truth is I love you
I can't say any more
'Cause I need you
Yes I want you
Yes I love you
As I look from my window
To the streets where you stand
I am gazing through dark glass
We can't walk hand in hand
Though your friends try to tell me
Though your friends you defend
They keep my heart from your heart
We must be in the end
'Cause I love you
Yes I need you
Yes I love you
All the nights that I've missed you
All the nights without end
All the times that I've called you
Only needing a friend
Now your eyes shine with beauty
That I missed long ago
Guess the truth is I love you
I can't say any more
'Cause I need you
Yes I want you
Yes I love you
ـ "... إن فى الإنسان منطقة عجيبة سحيقة لا تصل إليها الفضيلة ولا الرذيلة ، ولا تشع فيها شمس العقل والإرادة ، ولا ينطق لسان المنطق ، ولا تطاع القوانين والأوضاع ، ولا تتداول فيها لغة أو تستخدم كلمة ... إنما هى مملكة نائية عن عالم الألفاظ والمعاني ... كل مافيها شفاف هفاف يأتي بالأعاجيب فى طرفة عين ... يكفي أن ترن فى أرجائها نبرة ، أو تبرق لمحة ، أو ينشر شذا عطر ، حتى يتصاعد من أعماقها فى لحظة من الإحساسات والصور والذكريات ، ما يهز كياننا ويفتح نفوسنا على أشياء لا قبل لنا بوصفها ، ولا بتجسيدها ، ولو لجأ إلى أدق العبارات و أبرع اللغات ... " ـ
توفيق الحكيم
Within man lies a deep wondrous spot, to which neither virtue nor vice can reach. Upon which the sun of reason and will never rise. In which the mouth of logic never speaks, the laws and rules are never obeyed, and not a language is used nor a word is ever spoken.
It is a distant Kingdom, beyond words and meanings. With everything is a sheer murmur offering wonders in a blink. From the depths of which, suffice a single tone or a flash of mind or a scent of a perfum, to allow rise of emotions, pictures and memories, a rising that will shake our being and open ourselves to things we can neither describe nor materialize even if we used the most refined of phrases or the most skillful of languages.
Tawfiq Al-Hakim.
(My humble transalation of the arabic text)
Within man lies a deep wondrous spot, to which neither virtue nor vice can reach. Upon which the sun of reason and will never rise. In which the mouth of logic never speaks, the laws and rules are never obeyed, and not a language is used nor a word is ever spoken.
It is a distant Kingdom, beyond words and meanings. With everything is a sheer murmur offering wonders in a blink. From the depths of which, suffice a single tone or a flash of mind or a scent of a perfum, to allow rise of emotions, pictures and memories, a rising that will shake our being and open ourselves to things we can neither describe nor materialize even if we used the most refined of phrases or the most skillful of languages.
Tawfiq Al-Hakim.
(My humble transalation of the arabic text)
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