William Shakespeare
در ضلع شمالی محله ما وشرفي روستای مجاور ، اراضی زراعی بی نظیری وجود داشت ، روستای مجاور ، از گذشتههای خیلی دور بین خود تقسیم و بر روی آن کشاورزی می کردند ودر دهه ی 8 آنرا به تاکستان مبدل کردند و اخيرا زیتون ، امل گذشتگان ما ، به جای کشت و کار ، آنرا بعنوان چراگاه و سکونتگاه قرار دادند این زمین نه موات بوده و نه عرصه جنگلی، که منابع طبیعی آنرا به نام خود سند بزند بلکه از بهترین و حاصلخیزترین اراضی محله بوده ، که بعلت احشام فراوان ، ودر معرض بودن زیان ، ، لر روی آن کشاورزی نکرده اند
In yon fair district, where the Northern winds do whisper secrets of land most bounteous, there lies a tapestry of fertile expanse, renowned far and wide, a verdant homage to the labors of laborers past. This ancient hamlet, steeped in the annals of time, doth cradle within its bosom the rich heritage of toil and sweat, for many an age before our present day. As the sun cast its golden glow upon the tilled earth, the humble farmers sowed seeds not merely of grain, but of hope, anchoring their dreams in the soil, their sweat mingling with the rain, until the land itself did sing of its bounty. Yet ere long, in the decade of the eighties, a grand metamorphosis did befall, for the verdant fields were transformed into vine-laden slopes, where the grape did gestate visions of sweet nectar, whilst the olives, those precious gems of the bough, reminded us of the echoes of our ancestors — a bond with the sacred soil, now eclipsed by the creeping shadow of time's relentless march. Alas, what folly hath befallen this sultry patch of earth, that once nurtured the pulse of life, only to become a pasture for flocks and a residence for wandering souls? These lands, neither barren nor cloaked in forest's grasp, have borne witness to nature's grandeur and man's intricate dance, yet now, in the face of straying cattle, remain untended, a canvas left bereft of the farmer's hand. In this contradiction lies a grievous sorrow, for what once flourished with promise now bears the weight of neglect — exquisite lands that, had they been graced with diligence, might still yield fruits of labor, instead of languishing in quiet despair, a testament to nature’s grace undone by man’s heedless choices. Thus ponder, dear heart, upon this fleeting existence, where the cycles of creation and decay intertwine, revealing deep truths manifest in the soil beneath our feet, whispering ancient wisdom that all we nurture hath the potential to flourish anew, if only we embrace the harmony of toil and respect the land's tender grace.