The fragrance you gave left,
To me is a live.
No flower can produce
Such the madness,
That in me you reap.
My burning anguish goes a-haunted,
And my being writhes for your image,
How I long for a while a bit of your presence!
The fragrance you have left,
Waves frenzy beyond the universe,
Your abstract advent only quenches,
The desert’s thirst in my verse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem