Author of quotes: Bedil

Black insides envious and evil heart in tune,
Ever the good neighbor, his eyes kostat.
The ceiling is white as silver, and drawn to him
From the fading candles envious of their children.

And frivolous, when walking down the street of shame
Suddenly jokingly surrender to meditation.
The wool is so lightweight, when it absorbed water,
Weight finding, opposes the flow.

At least you drank the sweet honey, the hangover, the bitter hour,
The fate of it will elevate, in the abyss leaving us.
Know thyself, my friend, then will be able to know
You're grieving and rushing to dance.

In his letter to the beloved one
I made the heart with starting point,
But suddenly it lunged towards sweet,
Burst scroll, like a Bud in spring.

About the Shah, albeit on a staggered fields
Victory is in your army,
But remember, if the pawn king you
What double meaning has the word "Shah!".

Mourned the memory alive
Gone are the poets, whose immortal verse.
And ink droplets weeping feathers
And cling to the paper, remembering them.

Bright as the flame, the cap of the rich
But his passion for profit - hot.
But likuyuschey crowned hat,
He dies as under the flame of the candle.

Self-confident step of one whose head is empty,
Where as the grass grows, the nonsense just for a reason.
The soul clings to sloth when you do not know worries.
The pitcher who lost the wine will fill the void.

Bedil, let us not imitate we like drum
And glorify him by becoming the Emir Ile Sultan.
We gather friends again in the distance palaces of the rich
And become a song to sing, in which there is no deception.

The blind man who saw, but did not take into account.
Honey, that gave delight, bitter honey.
Of all dwellings - true to herself grave,
And the shroud is alien to the whims of fashion.

Indeed, Bedil, cheaper candles
The price of other meetings or gatherings.
Where loyalty oaths? And sacrificially in honor of the friendship
Whose head rolled from his shoulders proudly?

The acts of the kings - the collection of sewage.
The king is not a Saint and not a Saint was he.
The greatness of kings and the luxury of their own,
I swear I'm not worth more than donkey shit.

The flesh of the man whole, as it is, corporal bonds full,
His bones and veins honor when life is done.
The turn is coming - and death will come, and will become our flesh
All former links dear forever deprived.

What the nature of the heart evil is to come,
On his head though the number of teshi from year to year.
Why to a Shine tried to grind a sharp sword,
Which hands took the executioner to cut off the head.