Forever in your warmth I dwell.

A poem about a person who don’t take the deeds seriously, eventually in hereafter he must suffer from what he has brought forward.

If actions only mattered
if Heaven was the rich reward of the good

the chaste and worthy
then how come the sins of fathers
continue to visit their children?

Death will do me no harm.

If the sense of modesty is alive and vigorous in a man, his life will not only be clean in the sight of his fellow beings, but also in the eyes of God.

Sights. Hereafter, I do not know where,

Perhaps fleeing, perhaps searching,

How should I know

Sights. Between your memory’s cracks,

Between the sea furious of your passions,

Between the veiled storm door of the uncertain future,

A small story shedding light on the need to plan for the hereafter now.

In praise of my favourite aromas.

About being in love with a person who sacrifices his life for his nation.