Yt Quotes

Every woman should have 4 pets in her life. A mink in her closet A jaguar in her garage A tiger in her bed And a jackass who pays for EvErYtHiNg!

yt wise man, recognizing that the world is but an illusion, does not act as if it is real, so (therefore) he escapes the suffering.

Ever think of introducing yourself?" Y.T. says. "Nah," he says, "people always forget names. You can just think of me as that one guy, y'know?

Tingllim Hjek keq por sё kthej te ti. Qe, lot`t i tera. Mbas tashit nji pikё lodje sё derdh pёr ty. S’ke mbet veç ti, ka edhe varza tjera, por nuk mё kan bamun dritё der’sot kёta sy. Kangёt qi t’i kndova ka me i tretun era. Emni i yt nё zembёr t’eme ka me u shlye. Ti duej ke tё duesh tash qi ka dalё prendvera. Se na lidh ma gja. U zgjidh, u zgjidh ky nye. Pertrihet nё ket stinё tё bukur marё natyra, dhe shpirti i em nё kto dit ka m’u pёrtri. E krejt jetёs s’eme do t’i ndrrojё, po, ftyra. Mbas tashit ti nё daç mё duej e nё daç mos mё duej, por lulet qi shpёrthejn sivjet nё kёt shtёpi, nuk çilin ma pёr ty. Janё tё tjetёrkuej.

Timothy is the product of too much upper-class inbreeding. When too many dumb rich kids drink too much with other dumb rich kids, go yachting, and kiss one another on the cheeks (or better yt, on the air by their cheeks), this is the sort of child they produce.If nothing else, I'm against a class system for this very reason.

Vuejtja Ka do dit që po shof fare mirë se si nga vuejtja syt po më madhohen, nepër ball dhe ftyrë rrudhat po më shtohen e si buzqeshja m'asht e hidhun... ... dhe po ndij se si mëngjeset e mia nukjanë ma mëngjese hovi e pune, as ndërtimi, por të shtymt dita më ditë e një jete që s'durohet. Dalngadalë po shof si jeta një nga një secilin ndjesi me tradhti po ma vulos dhe s'po më mbetë asgja që me u nda si shej gëzimi, përpara nuk e dishe, ojetë, se kaq i tmerrtë asht grushti i yt që mbyt pa mëshirë. Por kot në pasqyrë po shof se si nga vuejtja syt po më madhohen nëpër ballë dhe në ftyrë rrudhat po më shtohen, dhe shpejt do të bahem flamur i vjetruem i rreckuem ndërluftat e jetës.

Y.T. is maxing at a Mom's Truck Stop on 405, waiting for her ride. Not that she would ever be caught dead at a Mom's Truck Stop. If, like, a semi ran her over with all eighteen of its wheels in front of a Mom's Truck Stop, she would drag herself down the shoulder of the highway using her eyelid muscles until she reached a Snooze 'n' Cruise full of horny derelicts rather than go into a Mom's Truck Stop.

And as for me, though that I konne but lyte, On bokes for to rede I me delyte, And to hem yive I feyth and ful credence, And in myn herte have hem in reverence So hertely, that ther is game noon That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, But yt be seldom on the holyday, Save, certeynly, whan that the month of May Is comen, and that I here the foules synge, And that the floures gynnen for to sprynge, Farewel my bok and my devocioun!

The manager thunks down a couple of steps, glares at her, glares at her for rather a long time. The manager, clearly, is tempted. That momentary glimpse of flesh has been ricocheting around in his brain for half an hour. He is wracking his mind with vast cosmological dilemmas. Y.T., hopes that he does not try anything, because the dentata's effects can be unpredictable. "Make up your fucking mind," she says. It works. This fresh burst of culture shock rattles the jeek out of his ethical conundrum. He gives Y.T. a disapproving glower -- she, after all, forced him to be attracted to her, forced him to get horny, made his head swim -- she didn't have to get arrested, did she? -- and so on top of everything else he's angry with her. As if he has a right to be. This is the gender that invented the polio vaccine?

Y.T., who dropped out of the sky into the middle of the camp like a Stealth fighter with an inferiority complex.

Leia nodded. "If the Yuuzhan Vong learn that the Solos are here, they come to get us. Even if we use false names, if a Corellian YT-1300 freighter lands with a dashing, vainglorious man at the controls, it doesn't matter what name he uses, people are going to think Han Solo." Han shot her an offended look. "Vainglorious?" "Vainglorious," Leia affirmed. "Vain plus glorious. Go ahead, deny it." "Well... I can't, really.

Profesion Jam msue me të vra me sendet ma të buta me heshtje, me nji ''mirë, s'ka gja'', me mendje të lehtë ty që e vdekun dukesh n'ballkon të pozës tande. Kam me vra me mija herë dëshirën tande me sendet ma të buta: me ikje, me ndrojtje e mosvendim, bile me gazin tim të kotë, ty që dora ime kurr s'arrika me të ngjallë nga hija e baltës tande. Do të vras prap prap e përsëri prap mendimin tim për ty, me çka të më vijë përdore dhe mendimi yt, në vdekjen e vet, kah pak, kah pak do të marrë me vete pjesë nga unë, të vrame edhe ato me sende të buta me ç'të vjen përdore, me kohë, pritje, indiferencë...

Çfarë je ti?" Asgjë. Kjo është përgjigja. Asgjë. Në zemër të zemrave, asgjë! Kështu që natyrisht nuk e duron këtë dhe do të jesh Diçka dhe përpiqesh. Po në vend të jetë ky Diçka, njeriu kërkon të përfitojë me mashtrim nga gjithsecili. Nuk mund të jesh aq i ngurtë me vetveten. Ti do pak. Sikur të jesh një qen - (Gërshëra) - apo sikur jep ca pare për një udhëtim bamirësie. Tani, kjo s'është dashuri, apo jo? Çfarë është? Vetkënaqësi e pastër dhe e thjeshtë. Kjo është mënyra të duash shpirtin synues. Vanitet. Vetëm vaniteti është kështu. Dhe kontrolli shoqëror. Interesi i shpirtit synues është i njëjtë me interesin e jetës shoqërore, mekanizmin e shoqërisë. Kjo është tragjedia e jetës njerëzore. Është e tmerrshme! Nuk je i lirë. Tradhëtari yt është brenda teje dhe të tradhëton. Ti duhet t'i bindesh atij si një skllav. Ai të shtyn të punosh si kalë. Dhe përse? Për çfarë?

U rrita nënoke... dhe kam filluar të të ngjaj gjithnjë e më shumë... Tashmë zgjohem herët... dhe flej para të gjithëve... Trafiku ka filluar të më mbysë... e fjalët më lodhin... U rrita nënokja ime dhe kam filluar të pij më shumë çaj... më pëlqejnë barishtet... dhe aroma e qelibarit... U rrita nënoke dhe gjithçka e lexoj vetëm... qaj në heshtje vetëm... dhe përmallem krejt vetëm... U rrita nënokja ime, të gjithë largohen... dhe miqtë janë pakësuar shumë... Më pëlqen më shumë qetësia, e imagjinon dot...? kurse zhurmat m’i shterojnë energjitë... U rrita nënoke dhe s’e shijoj qëndrimin natën vonë... dhe krejt si ti, tashmë është deti ai që më fal qetësi... bota është bërë kaq e komplikuar... e thjeshtësia gjithnjë e më e vështirë... Sot, njerëzit u ngjajnë më shumë kukullave... e unë nuk di të luaj më... Jeta nuk është siç më pate thënë... plot ngjyra... kurse udhët, kryesisht, gumëzhijnë nga njerëzit e shumtë... të gjithëve, nënoke, u rëndojnë halle mbi supe... Gjithnjë e më shumë, nënoke, më merr malli për veten... Kam mall për thjeshtësinë e atyre ditëve në shtëpinë e gjyshit... Kam mall për atë kohë atje, kam mall për ty... Kam mall për veten time të vogël, si dikur... Kam mall për qortimin tënd spontan, të sinqertë, të butë dhe lotues... Tashmë është jeta që më qorton, nënoke... janë ditët e padrejta që kritikojnë... të gjithë ua hedhin fajin të gjithëve... Nuk ka më dashuri pa interes... dhe mirësjellja është shndërruar në një kompliment me kosto... U rrita nënoke dhe pashë që isha plakur... thinjat mi pushtuan flokët e mi të errët, të cilët i doje aq fort... e që dikur u thurrje këngë e luaje me to... U rrita shumë... e bota nuk është aq interesante sa mendoja... U rrita nënoke që ta kuptoj se unë jam ai vogëlushi jot, sado të rritem... dhe se përqafimi yt është e gjithë bota ime... Ah nënokja ime.

Yo, Y.T.," Roadkill says, " 'sup?" "'Sup with you?" "Surfing the Tura. 'Sup with you?" "Maxing The Clink." "Whoa! Who popped you?" "MetaCops. Affixed me to the gate of White Columns with a loogie gun." "Whoa, how very! When you leaving?" "Soon. Can you swing by and give me a hand?" "What do you mean?" Men. "You know, give me a hand. You're my boyfriend," she says, speaking very simply and plainly. "If I get popped, you're supposed to come around and help bust me out." Isn't everyone supposed to know this stuff? Don't parents teach their kids anything anymore? "Well, uh, where are you?" "Buy 'n' Fly number 501,762." "I'm on my way to Bernie with a super-ultra." As in San Bernardino. As in super-ultra-high-priority delivery. As in, you're out of luck. "Okay, thanks for nothing." "Awwww," he begins. "Surfing safety," Y.T. says, in the traditional sarcastic sign off. "Keep breathing," Roadkill says. The roaring noise snaps off. What a jerk. Next date, he's really going to have to grovel. But in the meantime, there's one other person who owes her one. The only problem is that he might be a spaz. But it's worth a try.

In the parking lot of a Safeway on Oahu," he says. And he's telling the truth; in the background she can hear the shopping carts performing their clashy, anal copulations. "I'm kind of busy now, Whitey -- but what can I do for you?" "It's Y.T., " she says, "and you can help bust me out of The Clink." She gives him the details. "How long ago did he put you there?" "Ten minutes." "Okay, the three-ring binder for Clink franchises states that the manager is supposed to check on the detainee half an hour after admission." "How do you know this stuff?" she says accusingly. "Use your imagination. As soon as the manager pulls his halfhour check, wait for another five minutes, and then make your move. I'll try to give you a hand. Okay?" "Got it.

She has to find someplace to pull into. If she could find a Nova Sicilia franchulate, that would do it—the Mafia owes her one. Or a New South Africa, which she hates. But the New South Africans hate jeeks even more. Scratch that; Hiro is black, or at least part black. Can't take him into New South Africa. And because Y.T. is a Cauc, they can't go to Metazania. “Mr. Lee's Greater Hong Kong,” Hiro says. “Half mile ahead on the right.” “Nice thinking—but they won't let you in with your swords, will they?” “Yes,” he says, “because I'm a citizen.” Then she sees it. The sign stands out because it is a rare one. Don't see many of these. It is a green-and-blue sign, soothing and calm in a glare-torn franchise ghetto. It says: MR. LEE'S GREATER HONG KONG

Y.T. is bored. She gets on her plank. The wheels blossom and become circular. She guides a tight wobbly course around the cars, coasts down into the street. The spotlight follows her for a moment, maybe picking up some stock footage. Videotape is cheap. You never know when something will be useful, so you might as well videotape it. People make their living that way -- people in the intel business. People like Hiro Protagonist. They just know stuff, or they just go around and videotape stuff. They put it in the Library. When people want to know the particular things that they know or watch their videotapes, they pay them money and check it out of the Library, or just buy it outright. This is a weird racket, but Y.T. likes the idea of it. Usually, the CIC won't pay any attention to a Kourier. But apparently Hiro has a deal with them. Maybe she can make a deal with Hiro. Because Y.T. knows a lot of interesting little things. One little thing she knows is that the Mafia owes her a favor.

Hiro and Y.T. have eaten a lot of junk food together in different joints all over L.A. -- doughnuts, burritos, pizza, sushi, you name it -- and all Y.T. ever talks about is her mother and the terrible job that she has with the Feds. The regimentation. The lie-detector tests. The fact that for all the work she does, she really has no idea what it is that the government is really working on. It's always been a mystery to Hiro, too, but then, that's how the government is. It was invented to do stuff that private enterprise doesn't bother with, which means that there's probably no reason for it; you never know what they're doing or why. Hackers have traditionally looked upon the government's coding sweatshops with horror and just tried to forget that all of that shit ever existed. But they have thousands of programmers. The programmers work twelve hours a day out of some twisted sense of personal loyalty. Their software-engineering techniques, while cruel and ugly, are very sophisticated. They must have been up to something.

Better take her uniform -- all that gear," the second MetaCop suggests, not unlewdly. The manager looks at Y.T., trying not to let his gaze travel sinfully up and down her body. For thousands of years his people have survived on alertness: waiting for Mongols to come galloping over the horizon, waiting for repeat offenders to swing sawed-off shotguns across their check-out counters. His alertness right now is palpable and painful; he's like a goblet of hot nitroglycerin. The added question of sexual misconduct makes it even worse. To him it's no joke. Y.T. shrugs, trying to think of something unnerving and wacky. At this point, she is supposed to squeal and shrink, wriggle and whine, swoon and beg. They are threatening to take her clothes. How awful. But she does not get upset because she knows that they are expecting her to. A Kourier has to establish space on the pavement. Predictable law-abiding behavior lulls drivers. They mentally assign you to a little box in the lane, assume you will stay there, can't handle it when you leave that little box. Y.T. is not fond of boxes. Y.T. establishes her space on the pavement by zagging mightily from lane to lane, establishing a precedent of scary randomness. Keeps people on their toes, makes them react to her, instead of the other way round. Now these men are trying to put her in a box, make her follow rules. She unzips her coverall all the way down below her navel. Underneath is naught but billowing pale flesh. The MetaCops raise their eyebrows. The manager jumps back, raises both hands up to form a visual shield, protecting himself from the damaging input. "No, no, nor' he says. Y.T. shrugs, zips herself back up.

Y.T. is maxing at a Mom’s Truck Stop on 405, waiting for her ride. Not that she would ever be caught dead at a Mom’s Truck Stop. If, like, a semi ran her over with all eighteen of its wheels in front of a Mom’s Truck Stop, she would drag herself down the shoulder of the highway using her eyelid muscles until she reached a Snooze ’n’ Cruise full of horny derelicts rather than go into a Mom’s Truck Stop.

We all die, it's a fact that today you aren't here, yesterday you weren't here doesn't mean that tomorrow you won't be here!

I wanna DeYtH Banger in my hands... he to die!

Someone has just yanked his goggles off his face—not Vitaly. “I’m out here, gogglehead!” Hiro looks out the window. It’s Y.T., hanging onto the side of the van with one hand, holding his goggles in the other. “You spend too much time goggled in,” she says. “Try a little Reality, man.

What's the purpose somebody to follow you on social like (twitter, youtube and facebook) and after few days the follow disappear!

I will say it here on louder, all people to can hear it. I "DeYtH Banger" - I have masturbating problem ): .

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Y.T. knows he's a computer guy because he has long hair in a ponytail and he's wearing jeans and he seems gentle.

Some books don't answer the inside, I read one comic called Ms.Marvel! Under Marvel can be understand that this person is powerful and can handle a lot of stuff, but reality this wasn't a powerful one or one strong. This guy was a guy who just called the Avengers like Iron Man for help!

Why do ever think about to get married?? Do we dare, all life to get worried, to be curious, to be angry, to think for money like they are gold, to think about what next to buy, to cry and even and more to happen? Marriage is like the gold, you find it or not, it depends from you but you once lost you can't find the same gold or the same wife, it's in about of luck to find the same. Imaginate that you have gold, but you don't have money, so you go to a pawnshop and what happens the gold becomes money, but reality you have two diffirent stuff. This doesn't mean that by doing that you get the same, why don't you go and give your wife for other person??? Will be the same like your wife will live in this person for which you have replaced her?? Of course, NOT!

Everyone gets in life in about 3 chances in one place. But everything is about how he wise he will use this chances!

You are crazy how?? Just delete everything around you, starting from friends, bus, objects and everything delete everything leave space and delete our planet what do you see?? Yourself, there and laughing like an crazy mental guy! - So I proved that you are crazy

If we can change the world let's do it now, not later!

Hey, ... my name is DeYtH Banger, (So far thanks for reading this it's pretty interesting coversation... isn't it?).

DeYtH Banger is a character, who is famous because of me, who is created by me and who lives by me...

Misunderstanding me probably means that I am Alien. (As far from here I can tell you sounds pretty interesting Theory... - DeYtH Banger is Alien. I like it!)

The U.S. 10-year Treasury yield US10YT=RR touched a two-month top at 2.20 percent having climbed from 1.92 percent in little more than a week.

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Kënga e valës (Vlorës) Lëmo', o valë e përkëdhel atë breg që s’është i gjallë, e, kur të flesh aty në Skelë, të shtrihesh në atë zall, këndo një këngë e nanuris shumë qetë e me ngadalë, se në atë tokë fle një fis që u ngrit në shekuj valë për nderin e Lirisë... Lëmo' o valë me ngadalë! këndo një këngë lehtë, të mos dëgjohet gjer në mal, se aty në ullishtë fshehtë dergjen..... - oh lëre mos e nga, kujtimi u ka mbet! - Pra ti o valë, këndo, mos qa, se zemrën e ke det dhe gjuhën ligjërim e shkumë, sa brigje ke në dorë!... Dhe kot kërkon të vërë në gjumë dhe shpirtin tënd, o Vlorë! Po ah, o vend që lind ç'ka vdes, pse hesht mbi varr, i gjallë? Përherë syri yt do jesh' me llahtari në zall?.. Lëmo' o valë me ngadalë, këndo kushtrim të qetë... Se mos dëgjohet lart në male në Arbërinë vetë se atje dergjet një jetë... Lëmo' o valë e përkëdhel me zemër, jo me zjarr, se bën vaki që vdekja del e s'hesht brenda në varr. Kushtrimin tënd o të dëgjoj oh, ndërsa vendi qan - atëherë, o valë, gjumi mbaroi dhe labët kush i mban...?!

Let's be private... I am different character and DeYtH is different as character.

I live with past called "DeYtH" ( a guy who is famous with cs 1.6 maps, mods, photoshop and e.t.c. and with my now "Mark Tven", you probably said "Oh,Oh I know this name this guy was a writer..." it's not taken the guy was called Mark Twain, I'm Tven, famous with awesome maps and interesting updates of cs 1.6 maps. To don't forget, I'm famous with my nick of past with writting.

When people write ye instead of the, or yt instead of that (as is still sometimes done in England), they are really using one of the “runes” inherited from the heathen Goths who lived two thousand years ago.

I don't know do I exist? I'm two different characters, DeYtH Banger isn't even and my name it was a character created by me. But who am I?? Can I use the word "I"?, who is "I". You use "I", he use this word and she use this word, but who is "I"?

Outside there a lot of powerful stuff, starting from mind movies up to movies like drama, real life, horror, mysteries and many other. Music which makes your day interesting, quotes which change your thought, books which provoke and many other stuff... (So now you know what's everything about, Good Luck with the other Stuff!)

Humanity it's strange race, if I can say this. There a lot of secrets and stuff which are still mysteries for this race! I know that most people are like the characters the guy near GreenWind, GreenHollyWood, the people like DeYtH are rare. GreenHollywood blocked me on skype because what??? Can't understand a joke, so he can joke with me but I can't??? WOW! Just Humanity or most people just stop us from doing the stuff which will make us better.

Outside... we are just nobody... you could meet me outside... but it doesn't mean that I am DeYtH Banger... I am playing that role... and I can't say how long I am going to be in this role.

There aren't any type of programs which I have been used to do this... it's real as hell and death was in my pocket. - DeYtH Banger

YT

Subscribe to me on YouTube at HedgehogGM YT

handing the briefcase over to a computer guy. Y.T. knows he’s a computer guy because he has long hair in a ponytail and he’s wearing jeans and he seems gentle.

Y.T. is maxing at a Mom’s Truck Stop on 405, waiting for her ride. Not that she would ever be caught dead at a Mom’s Truck Stop. If, like, a semi ran her over with all eighteen of its wheels in front of a Mom’s Truck Stop, she would drag herself down the shoulder of the highway using her eyelid muscles until she reached a Snooze ’n’ Cruise full of horny derelicts rather than go into a Mom’s Truck Stop. But sometimes when you’re a professional, they give you a job that you don’t like, and you just have to be very cool and put up with

He gives Y.T. a disapproving glower—she, after all, forced him to be attracted to her, forced him to get horny, made his head swim—she didn’t have to get arrested, did she?—and so on top of everything else he’s angry with her. As if he has a right to

Aight so bet, here we go! You will experience joy, angst, and mild frustration. I’m 10x/10 going to unalive someone and/or bring them back from the dead…with a smile on my face. So know that if you slide in my DMs hollering, I’m going to laugh. I love you, but I’m going to laugh. These characters are going to fight, cuss, and hunch a lot. Lots of lewd scenes. Procreation and such. Baby, if that’s not your thing, close this book and never open it again. This is a BLACK ROMANCE WITH URBAN UNDERTONES – it will not give you “fluffy”, it will not give you “YT Romance vibes”, it will not give you “unproblematic”. It will give you Ganton Hills, BIG BLACK ENERGY, with guns, and gas station drug money, and strip clubs. Because yeah I love them strippers! Who doesn’t? BFFR!

I may not be famous, but I do know that fame does not compare to love.

I am a complete idiot but I have puns and that is what makes you successful

I'm not smart logical or have common sense but I have puns

I was at a point where conversations like that really messed up with my painstakingly woven thought stream of nothingnesses.

At that moment I felt that no physical pain could possibly amount to the wrenching one pounding within my heart.

The humans cheered their victory, followed by a chorus of “YEA!” “SICK!” “NICE” “YEET” “GET OUT OF HERE!” The general wiped sweat off his brow and breathed a sigh of relief.

Thus,” he tolde the younge wizzerds, “we may take unto ourselfes the mantel of Goddes.” Thee next day, yt being raining, Alberto’— “It’s written in Old,” he said. “Before they invented spelling. Let’s have a look at the latest one.

Simpsons Tapped Out Cheatss Yt [16230] Follow the instructions: Step 1) Search Google.com For "special keygens and hacks" Step 2) Click the 1st or 2nd place result which is a Facebook Page or Pagebin Enjoy! :)

Prorok szanowany przez obie grupy w wojnach Końcowych w „Podróżach Gu l i w e ra do w i e lu odległych narodów świata" mi ał do powiedzenia, co następuje: „Niechaj wszyscy w i e r ni t ł u k ą j a ja z ba rdz i ej dogodnego końca". Ni e z b yt pomocne!

Malli Syri i bukur qe t'u mvrenjt Syri yt qe me lendon Do me lere a von a shpejt, Do me lere a shpejt a von. Sapo shpirti m'u delir Shpirti im i nxire krejt Do me lere me pahir Syri i bukur qe t'u mvrenjt E do mbetem pernjemend Varfanjak si mbret pa fron: Mbreteresha qe me cmend Do me lere a shpejt a von Do me lere a von a shpejt, Do me lere a shpejt a von, Syri i bukur qe t'u mvrenjt Syri yt qe me lendon. Do me lere...A! por si Qofte ahere ose tani Do te qaj aq dashuri Qe do humb me mall te ti? Mua mendja s'm'a kupton, Mua syri s'ma veshtron, Po fillon edhe vajton, E kullon, kullon, kullon: Mall! o mall! qe vjen e shkon! Vjen e shkon e prape vjen, Mall qe len nga perendon: Len e vjen e zjen e bren: Malli mallin me s'e gjen...

Kur të më jesh e zemëruar Ti m`u rrëfeve për sëpari shkrepëtimtare në stoli, Un` ëndërrova se në zemër po më valon një mall i ri. O,c`ka që m`u venit qipalla me kaq të ngjethur të pafaj? Haj!shkretëtirë-e-zemrës`s`ime!Dhe haj!e zeza jetë,haj! Posi një yll i perënduar më pate humbur gjith më larg... Nga malli yt i thura fjalët gjith sërë-sërë-e-varg-e-varg; E cdo mendim e pata tretur vetëm n`ërgjënd e në flori, O,vashë-e lotit të zhuritur që vetëtin nër syt` e mi.- Prej largësisë së pa anë kalon durimi mot-me-mot... Pas kaqe kohë dhemshurije,ndaj vëndi-i lum as eja sot! Në gjirin t`ënd të llaftaruar m`a lerë mëndjen t`a humbas, Të ndjej si zemra më gatohet plot me dëshir` e plot me gas. Ti buzëqesh-më-zilitare,e më ckëlqe si vetëtim, E më vështro me sy pëllumbi drejt mun në fund të shpirtit t`im; Se gazi-i-kthjellt` i lumtërisë,që cel si lulja në mëngjes, Si lule-e pastër do më mbijë në krahruar mun në mes: Kur të më jesh e zemëruar,më shpirt të vrarë-e varfnjak, N`e mbajc në zemër zembëratën,prej helmit t`ënd s`do heq aspak; S`do psherëti n`e lënc të vdesë,a në `m`a thënc,në mos m`a thënc Mjafton një mvrejtje-e buzës s`ate,që të më bësh të prishem menc.

C'dëgjoj me sy të trembur C'dëgjoj me sy të trembur fytyra që m'u prish? Një këng' e llaftaruar po vjen prej lartësish!- Ah! zëri yt që zbriti prej botës së pa anë, po heth posi me ruaza në qelq të një kambane... Këndimi yt,o vashë,tashi pikoj përdhe. T'a ndjej si dhemshurohet më një magji të re. E t'j-a kuptoj dëshirën ndaj po valon në mua, ndaj po më gjen ah! zemra dhe malli që m'u shtua. Tashi të ra këndimi,po fare nuk t'u vdar. Un' e dëgjova tinës e mbeta mendimtar. Më foli goja jote me ngashërim të letë Që shpirt` i përvëluar m'u droth posi një fletë. Tashi po humb sëfshehta ushtim' e zërit t'ënd. Tashi t'u shua fare dhe më s'më vjen ndërmënd. Haj! mëndja ime-e ndjellë prej zërit që të vate U bë nga-dale këngë...dh'u shojt pas këngës s'ate.

* Black Magic Specialist Molvi Ji ()()()()()+88906754 5 3+()()()()()** In Coimbatore

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