Sound Engineering and Recording Studio South Voice Please subscribe to the channel and activate the bell feature to support us and to receive all that is new. If you like the video, click like and share your opinion with us by commenting. Thank you. Anyone who owns the copyright to any material used on our channel and has an objection, please contact us at [email protected] Goodness in people is created if they are forced, and evil in people does not perish even if they are buried. Most people are machines that are moved by the fingers of time one day and then break. So do not say this is a scholar of knowledge, and do not say that is a dignified gentleman. The best people are herds that are led by the voices of shepherds. Whoever does not walk perishes. There is no shepherd in the forests.. nor are the herds in it. Winter walks, but.. spring does not keep up with it. People were created slaves.. to those who refuse to submit. So if one day it blows.. walking, everyone walks. Give me the flute and sing.. singing nurtures the minds and the groaning of the flute is more enduring.. from Majeed And humble * * And life is nothing but a sleep haunted by dreams Who obeys the desires of the soul And the secret in the soul is the sadness of the soul Covers it, if it turns away, then it is concealed by joys And the secret in life is the ease of life Conceals it, if it is removed, then its veil is taken away by sorrow If you rise above ease and sorrow, you will live in the shadow of that which confuses the mind There is no sadness in the forests, nor are there worries In them, if a breeze blows, the poisons do not come with it The sadness of the soul is nothing but the shadow of an illusion that does not last And the clouds of the soul appear, from its folds, the stars Give me the flute and sing, for singing erases the hardships And the groaning of the flute remains, after time passes * * And few on earth are those who are satisfied with life as it comes to them spontaneously And are not ruled by boredom Therefore, they have turned the river of life into cups of illusion If they float in them, they become intoxicated When people drink, they are happy As if they Mortgage of passion and they broke their fast with drugs. This one runs riot when he prays, that one when he is rich, and that one ferments with dreams. The earth is a tavern and time is its owner. None but those who are drunk are satisfied with it. If you see a sober brother, say, “Wonderful! Has a moon taken shelter under a rainy cloud?” There is no intoxication in the forests from wine or imagination? There is nothing in the streams but the elixir of clouds. Drugs are but a breast and milk for the people. When they grow old and die, they reach the age of weaning. Give me the flute and sing, for singing is the best drink. The groaning of the flute remains after the plateaus perish. Religion among people is a field that is not cultivated except by those who are best suited to sow it. There is a desire from one who hopes for eternal bliss, rejoicing, and from one who is ignorant, fearing the blazing fire. Were it not for the punishment of the Resurrection, people would not worship a Lord, and were it not for the reward they hope for.” They disbelieved as if religion were a type of their trade If they persist they profit, or if they neglect they lose There is no religion in the forests, nor is there ugly disbelief So when the nightingale sings, this is not what the truth says The religion of people comes, like a shadow and goes There has been no religion on earth, after Taha and Christ Give me the flute and sing, for singing is the best prayer And the moaning of the flute remains, after life perishes * * And justice on earth would make the jinn cry if they heard of it And would make the dead laugh if they looked Prison and death are for the wicked if they were small And glory, pride and enrichment if they were large The flower thief is condemned and despised And the field thief is called the dangerous valiant And the killer of the body is killed by his deed And the killer of the soul is unknown to people There is no justice in the forests, nor is there punishment There when the willow casts its shadow over the dirt The cypress tree does not say this is an innovation Against the Book If people's justice is snow, if the sun sees it, it melts Give me the flute and sing, for singing is the justice of hearts And the groaning of the flute remains, after sins are annihilated * * And the truth is for determination and souls If they are strong, they prevail, and if they are weak, others afflict them In the den, there is a wind that the sons of foxes cannot approach, whether the lion is absent or present And in the starlings, there is cowardice while they are flying And in the falcons, there is pride while they are dying Determination in the soul is a truth that the determination of the arms cannot deny, whether people like it or not If you see a weak person prevailing, then over a people who, when they see their likes, flee There is no determination in the forests, nor is there a weak person in them When the lions roar, they do not say this frightening thing If people's determination is a shadow, roaming in the space of thought And people's rights are wasting away, like autumn leaves Give me the flute and sing, for singing is the determination of souls The moaning of the flute remains.. after the suns have perished * * And knowledge among people is path, the beginning of which is time and destiny And the best knowledge is a dream If you attain it and walk among the sons of sleep, they will mock If you see a brother of dreams isolated from his people, and he is rejected and despised, then he is the prophet And the coolness of tomorrow hides him From a nation that wears the cloak of yesterday He is the stranger to the world and its inhabitant He is the immigrant People blame or excuse him He is the strong Even if he shows leniency He is the distant One People draw near or abandon There is no knowledge in the forests.. nor in them is the ignorant One So when the branches lean.. they do not say this great One If the knowledge of people has appeared.. like fog in the fields When the sun appears.. from behind the horizons it disappears Give me the flute and sing.. for singing is the best of knowledge And the moaning of the flute remains.. after the stars have gone out * * Give me the flute And sing.. and forget what I said and they said Speech is nothingness.. so tell me what we did Did you take the forest, like me.. a home instead of palaces So you followed the irrigation canals.. and climbed the rocks Did you bathe in perfume.. and inhale the light And drank the dawn wine.. in cups of ether Did you sit in the afternoon, like me.. between the grape vines and the clusters hanging down.. like plentiful gold For the thirsty, they are eyes.. and for the hungry, they are honey and perfume.. and for the one who desires wine Did you spread out the grass at night.. and cover yourself with the space Ascetic in what will come.. forgetting what has passed And the silence of the night is a sea.. waved in your ears And in the chest of the night is a heart.. throbbing in your bed Give me the flute and sing.. and forget the illness and the medicine People are but lines.. written but with water I wonder what benefit.. in Meeting, crowding, argument, noise, protest and quarrel, all of them are the expenditure of eternity and spider webs. He who lives with impotence, dies slowly. Life is in the jungle, and if the days were organized in my grip, they would be scattered in the jungle. But time has a desire in my soul. Every time I aim at a jungle, it stands up to apologize. Fate has paths that cannot be changed, and people, in their impotence, fall short of their purpose.