The Precious Land is YOU..." by sbs

We crossed days and seasons
And took so many joyful steps
I love you for so many reasons
My land, your love grew in depth

I hope you see me as a child
Who grew loving you as a mother
And if days become so wild
Be sure we'll be holding each other

Cause you taught me how to thank
Someone who gave me care
And always help me before I sank
Except in love, faith and faire

I'm glad of you my dear land
And proud of your great history
It's honor to be grown on your sand
Your gentle will just be a mystery

Till my last day…
I'll be kissing your ground
Cause at the judgment day
There my body will be found

*The Joy Of Art*" by sbs

Drawing is a pleasure

Calling from behind

Keeps always pushing me

To find my peaceful ground

When I'm nervous and sad

And feels lonely all around

My brush is my friend

Which always make me glad

It's not important

How people see my art

It's just enough

That it's a pleasure in my heart

Drinking from the faith oasis" by sbs

Dancing hopes, revealed peace upon her steps
Spreading mercy, painting blessing with all her tips

On the wings of the wind, she came
Shaking the lips by whispering her name

Her true nature was a revelation to everyone
That they thought she's a piece of that shining sun

Through the time she walked, shattering the lost past behind as a heap of dust
Creating the desired present by winning everyone trust

By each miracle she blew from her hands
Her traces were lasted among the cuddle of the sands

At night she slept quietly in peace that you'd think of a while that she's dead
But there were angles surrounding her bed, protecting her head

Every day, she draw pictures of happiness and wished everyone to feel it
Her colors were the sparkle of her formal high spirit

At the day of her leaving, she asked everyone to praise God in their paces
As she got her power from drinking from the faith oasis

Then her crown was left on the moon as inspiration source
And so everyone still pursuing her wise course

The Guitar of time" by sbs

On a guitar of time, he played pleasant tunes,
the rhymes of his life, were sang by the moon.

Always kept moving, he never looked behind,
stepped to the beat tunes played in his mind.

Many wise words he sang, so lovely the sound
composed with chords that kept peace around.

I sometimes get visions and with them shivers,
as I think of the legend, that traveled this river.

I wish it was true, that he'd wrote such a song,
when the world heard it, we'd all sing along