Masked

This is Damascus, the paradise of God in his land, she imagines its green meadows, its sport of blossom, and with its breezes, which the bodies were shouted, paper, and the souls have turned to him, and the sins passed, so the flower tail was clung Despair and hope, and a band and a meeting, then do not break the stumbling between the folk, and descend between the menstruation, until it meets the ...