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 عشق کے خواب میں کو دیکھتا ہے، پر کبھی کبھی یہ حقیقت سے دور رہتا ہے۔ ذہن کا مخزن عشق کے خوابوں کا پر وہ خواب ہمیشہ خوشی سے ب�

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