Suppressed excitement at that time of the year,
when life almost comes to a standstill.
The darkness is lit by a thousand lamps,
that flicker through the moody breeze.
Something balmy, something tranquil,
through the noise and dine.
Of glorious spread and meetings galore,
the rising smoke a sign of yore.
'Tis the sky that shows the true beauty,
when iridescent colors sparkle and die.
Like carelessly flung gems across an inky sky,
around the neck of a woman divine.
The whizz and the fizz,
sweep through the wide wide canvas.
Built for such glorious display,
of what can only be a night to remember.
I hate the noise and the rush,
I fight every time this time comes.
But when I see the sky so gorgeously lit up,
I know my heart seeks it out no matter,
year after year after year after...........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow lovely.evening is the time one is sad.keep writing