Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464604" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Real Game</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Uninvited frequent gluttonous guest, <br>Visited and picked up one by one, <br>The elder and younger of the family, <br>Making each time the house desolate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I was hardly three years old, <br>And nothing about painful death was told, <br>Played carefree with half dressed friends, <br>And ran around the big tree of acacia, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Staining with dust, mud and water dirty, <br>Made filthy my legs and arms, feet and face, <br>My grandmother would then give me a bath, <br>And I did weep, cryingly protested against, <br>The act of washing, making me neat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She then mopped my body, wiped my eyes, <br>Doting upon me, she caressed my cheeks, <br>Embracing me she would often warm, <br>Titillate with the fingers frail and old, <br>Made me laugh to forget the cold, <br>She hid behind the door, under the cots, <br>Played hide and seek to make me please.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! One morning she lay stiff, could not rise, <br>Then was dressed with the suit of cotton white, <br>As she would go on the journey long, <br>Gathered men, women, young and old, <br>Some wailed, some sniffed, some silent sat.<br>But played I with the friends of my age, <br>And ate yellow rice with the belly fill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the evening they shouldered the cot, <br>The procession advanced leaving me depressed, <br>Turned the corner, with the sacred chorus.<br>I stood stunned in the middle of the yard, <br>Staring to the street, questioning the walls, <br>“Why had they not taken me along? ”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At night I cried aloud when I found, <br>An empty bed laid in the deserted corner, <br>I sought under the cots, behind the doors, <br>Where she did hide, but could not find.<br>A pair of shoes, the clothes on cord, <br>Consoled me well, told me the truth, <br>Ah! The real game at last she had played.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Muhammad+Shanazar">Muhammad Shanazar</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464604" data-title="The Real Game de Muhammad Shanazar" data-description="Uninvited frequent gluttonous guest, 
Visited and picked up one by one, 
The elder and younger of the family, 
Making each time the house desolate.

When I was hardly three years old, 
And nothing about painful death was told, 
Played carefree wit..."></div>
</div>
</div>