Evening has descended
Across the lanes of the town;
The last glow of the sun,
Grazing the rooftops
Where girls with oiled hair
Hum songs sitting in a circle;
Old women light lamps
And walk to the basil plant
Bent half, murmuring prayers;
The lamp post at the town
Square has begun to shed
Dim yellowish light and let
The moths whine around it;
The old man recites prayer,
Sitting on the verandah, as
A soft wind sweeps away
Curls of smoke from rooftops;
Towards the silent tope that
Stands as a landmark going
To be usurped by darkness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The coming of the evening or night as the sunset.
Yeah, the time when peace descends slowly. Thanks.