Ananya
you stand like the Britannia
embellishing
my Thames psyche
and
my Westminster Abbey persona.
Behind the backdrop
of my London life
you sang a mesmeric love song
like a brown Pipit
to my Yorkshire poet heart.
You prance
like brisk Lucy
piercing through the regal silence
of pristine Buckingham Palace
clearing up all leftovers strewn mess
in my poetry ideal way
like one phoenix segue.
You strut and stride ahead
treading a two score old carpet
piqued yet proud like Queen Victoria
like a virago suitor vanquishing my poor megalomania.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very fine, I like it, thanks,