Making her a drunkard,
Tearing her attire and that too in patches,
See her not always
Like a bikini babe
But giving a beautiful clothing,
You try to see her,
My chaste love
With a Cross hanging over
And she reading the Holy Bible
And confessing before.
Such an image too, you try to make it sometimes,
Chaste, undefiled and pure.
Try to love the soul too,
Try to love the heart too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem