We have girls; pink girls adore life; adore it deeply. Their hearts are white hearts fill the air with enjoyment and their smiles are pink smiles color the places with pleasure. The homes; our homes are black without the girls’ smiles and the city; our city is empty without the girls’ laugh We have girls; very dreamy girls; in their eyes, the aspirational tales wear beautiful dresses and on their shoulders the ambitious bags are pink and shiny. . Our girls’ fragrance is coming from the fairies’ land, and their pink veils are coming from the shining flowers.Yes, in Iraq, we have girls; nice girls; their dreams are big and pink, and their wishes are smiling and Rosary. Our schools are proud that magic girls are sitting on their disks, and our gardens are delight that charming girls are playing between their flowers. Our palm trees give all their sweet date for our girls’ hands and our buckthorn trees give all their full seeds to our girls’ labs.

Be simple and you will be beautiful. Be simple and I will love you more.Believe me, be simple and everything will love you more and more. The amazing nature is simple, the awesome seas are simple and the holy sky is simple. Beauty is the simple simplicity. Life is not in the complexity; life is in the simplicity. Your sleepy eyes are more beautiful with simple eyelashes, and your smooth whispers penetrate my hearts with your simple words. Here, in my chest, there is a very simple heart knows nothing but spontaneity and need nothing but simple love. When I talk, I talk simply, when I eat I eat simply and when I love, I love simply. So, please love me with your simple love and call me by my simple name. I love you deeply when you are simple and I get crazy when your smile is very simple.

When my eyes see that whispering light, the entire hidden thoughts dance with strange shadows. You may ask about that light which penetrates my silence evenly. You may want to see my soul jumping over the grass with these shadows; you may like to know how this whispering light embodies my dreams, my thoughts and my truth? You might not know that you are that whispering light.
I am a farmer from the south where there is no light or moon. My skin is a swimming goose, and my eyes are a dawn’s waiter. But, in a hidden night, where our birds were sleepy and my father jar has immersed in its deep dream, I saw dancing light in our orchard. We have no light but that dancing light has visited us in an absent night.

I will stand in the middle of our bridge waiting your soul to touch my heart, so I can fly. Our souls’ meeting is the true land where we touch the real faces of our bodies and see the real eyes of our minds. Where our souls meet, the moments are more intense; the hands are more warm, the eyes are ore colorful and the feelings are sharper. I am sure that you understand my souls’ signs because you are a reader and y mother said that the readers are great believers. And you know my soul’s story very well because you are a writer and my father said that the writers can see the souls carefully and know their tales very well. You believe me when my fingers refer to the places of the angels in the sky because you are beautiful and the beautiful souls are angels’ friends. I am sure that you can feel the delicious breeze of the magic feather of the angels’ wings because God kneaded our souls with fragrance of his heaven. I know that you don’t believe the tongues of those who say that the world of souls should be free from the body tales because we're human and the human is always a soul, a body, and a mind.

I saw peace and love face to face. Yes, Bhubanesawr is the transfiguration of peace and love and can teach the world their songs. I am a simple man, I mean very simple and Bhubanesawr is simply penetrating, I mean very penetrating and it always leaves in you a very special memory. The friends are great, I mean so great, the people are kind, I mean so kind and the time is nice, I mean very nice. The time is very touching in Bhubaneswa; its hands are soft and warm, and it's eyes and kind and sleepy. When it walks, it walks like a queen and when it talks, it talks in melody. In the morning, it comes with pink fragrance and at evening it goes with the orange breeze. I won't forget the titian Bahanesawr.

I am from the south where sun plays Tukki and palm trees chant fine melodies but in Delhi is the enchantment. There, the enthrallment steals the hearts, so I was missing it just within two days away from it. You can imagine this unrelenting nostalgia, and the deep *******. Delhi is not just a six armed God; in fact, Delhi is an endless river of amazement, shrill yearning for grandeur and an eternal poem of beauty. It is the home of charming, and simply it is the land of winsomeness and the enthralling face of life. The awesome tall trees in Delhi add to its coffee a special sweetness, the bewitching brown marble gives its words a delicious taste and the grand old buildings colors its memory with unforgettable memories.

In the special world, everything is special; the birds are special, the flowers are special, the buildings are special and the dresses are special. In India, the faces are special, the eyes are special and the words are special. The rivers in India are special, the forests are special and the hills are special. The moments are special, the smiles are special, the glances are special and the beauty is special. India plants in your depth a special memory, creates special moments and leaves in you a special yearning. Yes, any land can be special, but India is very special, I mean magically special. Yes, in India, the special world, everything is special.