When I immerse in your poetry.
I drown of envy.
The Artic's cold and the Sun's merry gold,
Are molten together in a solid crystal,
Which shines through your soul.
If I were god,
I would take your face in my shrivelled palms,
Kiss your forehead,
Turn you into a tiny green frond,
Some where in the middle of Amazon,
The dew drops would form on your vast expanse,
The spring would then erupt from the Artic calm.
Who is she? Your poem tells that she must be very elite poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am honoured Hardik Vaidya sir. What a beautiful and majestic poem. Thank you sir. :)