He keeps on talking about he who has already breathed his last
I have never heard him speak about me, in my company
He always matches those already dead with many ahistorical event
Oh, how I envy!
Death comes not to me.
O Nature, please grant me temporary death
so that he would speak about me.
Alas Nature, who is there for me, except you?
Oh Mountain, who is there for me, except you?
O Sea, who but you is there?
What at all I ask you?
After all, a temporary death, isn't it?
And you do offer it to all things inanimate.
I very much want to listen to him placing me in the pages of history!
Or else, why should I plead with you?
Never mind if you can't
Let me dream
with my own self.
(Translated by Latha Ramakrishnan)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem