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שם: דין
תאריך לידה: 7.8.81
"חת": לא המשפחה שלי!
"I don't think writers are sacred, but words are.
They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in
the right order, you can nudge the world a little
or make a poem which children will speak for you
when you are dead."
The Real Thing
- Tom Stoppard
Give the world the best you have,
and it will never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
Mother Teresa
למרי
Flesh backs of her pink-colored childhood would rise a smile
every now and then on her apathetic face, till the uncaring
and harsh reality would strike her one more time, and the
frosty, deserted street would laugh at her bitterly.
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The day was like all the other days. Hot, sweaty and the
drips of morning dew slowly dried up in the sun. Philip
partly opened his eyes and instantly shut them back. The
dazzling rays of sun and the chirping of birds signaled a
late hour of a spring after
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ואני אכן ראיתי את עצמי מחוץ לכל גדרי הנורמה- הרי חברות לא
היו לי וגם חברים לא.
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כל מה שהיא רצתה, זה לחיות עוד יום אחד, להתעורר עוד בוקר אחד
(לצידו) ולשמוע את הדממה המתחבאת מאחורי כנפי האוויר הכבד, שלא
ניתן לנשימה. לרגע, להרגיש את המיוחדות של הפשטות. להתרגש
משירים של וולט ויטמן. למצוא את "האני" שבה ולשרוד.
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To the madness of the darkness of the night
To the power of the verses that I write
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It was late, late in November
And the roads were shiny and wet
And the restless leaves on the pavements
Were letters on my restless bed
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כשזה עוטף את גופך
אתה צוחק, בצחוק ילדותי
תמים וטרוד
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Forever silence is broken,
The thoughts of a heart are heard, are spoken
I dedicate to you my teacher,
I sing to you my lord, my preacher.
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Because - because
I lost my friend
I died for him and turned him dead
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A road, two poles
A narrow path
A barbershop across the street
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And night and day
And every other August
To write about tears
Thicker than flood
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I measure happiness with words
And sadness with their absence
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אל הארכיון האישי (3 יצירות מאורכבות)
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עזוב אותך
מילדים רעבים
בסומליה. כשאתה
באמת צמא,
ספרייט. |
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