Here, people, smells and colors
Sound familiar ordinary objects to me.
I counted the windows and rooms,
Even, the bricks, my home consist.
I enjoy everything at my home
Gazing its landscape, listening to native dove.
I love, neighbor's accent and jokes
I know, when they fight, die or to make love.
I'm accustomed to all of these
Alas, no enough I feel comforter
whenever I reveal my dream and heart
I'm punished: 'go away, fool stranger'.
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Comments about this poem (The stranger by Mehri Mehraban )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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