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شعر بالانجليزي للاطفال

شعر بالانجليزي للاطفال



شعر بالانجليزي للاطفال

Mother, no matter how small, the daring dreamer
Who pursues his chimera,
All his poetry, O heavenly favor!
Belongs to his mother.

The artist, the hero in love with the dangers
And fertile struggles,
And those who, trusting light ships,
Go get some worlds,

The apostle who sometimes can like a seraph
Spell in the clouds,
The scientist who unveils Isis, and can finally
The half-naked glimpse

All these sacred men, mysterious elect
That the universe is listening,
Have had in the past heroic ancestors
Which draws them the road.

But we who to give the imperishable love
To the stifled souls,
Must be ingenuous as on their first day
The ancient Orpheas,

We who, tirelessly, in our hearts even opening
As a living source,
Must quench the weak and ignorant
Full of a naive faith,

We who must keep on our bright foreheads,
Like dictatorial fees,
The immortal and flowery smile of spring
And the sweetness of women,

Is not it, is it not, say it, you who see me
To laugh at bitter sorrows,
That the tender breath that passes in our voices
Is that our mothers?

Little ones, their hands calmed our most severe pains,
Patients and sure:
They gave us hands like theirs
To touch the wounds.

Our mother delighted our calm sleep,
And like her, without a truce,
When the crowd falls asleep in a vermeil hope,
We enchant his dream.

Our mother cradled a triumphant chorus
Our soul so beautiful,
And us is to rock the man always child
That we sing like her.

Any poet, dazzled by the solemn purpose
For which he conspires,
Is burned with a heavenly and maternal love
For everything that breathes.

And this martyr, who carries a wound on his side
And who has no hate,
Must this great ecstasy to the one whose blood
Runny in his veins.

O you whose kisses, sublime and pure bond!
Without genius
Gave me the ineffable desire for good,
Mother, be blessed.

And since the one who finally received it from heaven
And who is never tired,
Still knows how to make a precious jewel
A poor child without grace.

Go, you can adorn yourself with the object of your care
According to your desire,
Because what little I'm worth is yours at least,
O half of my life!

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إذا أعجبك محتوى مدونتنا نتمنى البقاء على تواصل دائم ، فقط قم بإدخال بريدك الإلكتروني للإشتراك في بريد المدونة السريع ليصلك جديد المدونة أولاً بأول ، كما يمكنك إرسال رساله بالضغط على الزر المجاور ...

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مواضيع بالعربية و الانجليزية topics

2016