My adolescent poet was random,
And it needed a poetess -divine,
Who with placid moon, -in shining vale,
Could give live the rudderless sail.
A commotion of poetic frenzy,
My vagabond's assumed love,
Cried, and cried in wilderness,
In the painted vacant, or accustomed cells,
Of pigeon-pair, or cross-bone rails,
Or in a feather-bed with vampire's nails.
The panoramic hope with sliding glob,
Had no cause to have an enhanced stay,
My poet's toll, rolls and rolls,
To have a shelter of opening sky.
An image of beauty Arpita by name,
As Heaven's bliss, abruptly came,
And functioned as poetess divine,
In all my poetry her divine love shines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem