Late at that night,
She came at my door,
I could not behold her,
She spoke something with a voice subdued,
What she spoke I cannot recall,
I only remember she came to entrust me,
For she had something in her hands,
Which I could not see.
Sometimes it happens so,
We listen not what we do not intend to listen,
We see not what we do not intend to see,
But long ago a feeling aroused in my mind
To be entrusted by her something,
That was why my Daman spread by itself,
But before I could take something,
She went back all silent,
And I came back to my bed,
Silent and nervous too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem