��hmad Shāmlū: In this crooked blind alley, as the chill descends, they feed fires with logs of s


	��hmad Shāmlū Quotes About Poetry ��hmad Shāmlū In this crooked blind alley, as the chill descends, they feed fires with logs of song and poetry. Hazard not a thought: These are strange times, my dear. The man who knocks at your door in the noon of the night has come to kill the light. Let’s hide light in the larder. ��hmad Shāmlū BestQuotes4Ever.com In this crooked blind alley, as the chill descends, they feed fires with logs of song and poetry. Hazard not a thought: These are strange times, my dear. The man who knocks at your door in the noon of the night has come to kill the light. Let’s hide light in the larder. Poetry 4231