For the dparture of the last ark, Is a-getting too close, But one dose not feel like to embark, 'Cause she with pigs overflows, And it errects the sensation to lurk, While her compass is the parson's nose. Though his fate may be an ordeal, He's the hero in the heroic dram. Though the night's dropped curtain, Listen to the words of certain That no one has ever submitted seen, Neither you and nor even me Farzin. A blank page Doesn't give the massage What is due.
Some towers are made of ivory, Then let the sharp looks be arrow.