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 channel for song to drift/float/wander on the breeze. Some said/believed/claimed these were the voices of long-lost/forgotten/ancient

زندگی کی یہی سیرت ہے '، جس کا ہیروئن ہر گز نہیں چھپ سکتا۔ سب شخص اس خوابوں میں عشق کو دیکھتا ہے، پر ہمیشہ یہ حقیقت سے دور رہتا ہے۔ انسانوں کا ذخیرہ عشق کے خوابوں کا پر یہ خواب ہمیشہ خوشی سے بھ

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