How pleased is a thought of yours,
It was only the nice gestures -
I remember-as a fastening stream,
Of a flood, that outflows the bank.
The sweet torments are powerful
As gradually in solar-eclipse -
The sun, never bends to the rules -
Who take a crack at the mighty -
That lasts for a short span,
-Of the cotton.
They all are tied with pain, -
Which have never sought the remedy -
With no mean, in the moment,
Won only pain -
The sparsest, he had of all treasure,
Through many hours and days;
As all they got buried!
In evening it backs on his lap,
Asks to him if he is worthy,
In sheer denial, the voices strut -
Each time as it has elapsed merely, -
As evening image -
-Danced on my spirit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
enjoyed reading this :)