A veil of mist clung to the ancient willow tree, its weeping branches casting/draped/falling over a tranquil/still/serene pool. The air hummed/buzzed/sang with an unseen energy, and faint/soft/subtle whispers seemed to drift/float/wander on the breeze. Some said/believed/claimed these were the voices of long-lost/forgotten/ancient spirits, seeking/

زندگی کی یہی سیرت ہے '، جس کا سچا رنگ ہر گز نہیں چھپ سکتا۔ سب شخص اس محبت کے خوابوں میں کو دیکھتا ہے، پر ہمیشہ یہ حقیقت سے دور رہتا ہے۔ ذہن کا ذخیرہ عشق کے خوابوں میں ہے پر ان خوابوں ہمیشہ خوش

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