All my attempts are in Vain,
Realizing it causes pain.
In the winds you are I see,
But they are blowing away from me.
That absurd glass is lucky,
Which thy hands hold so tenderly.
That piece of cloth holds more luck than me,
Which touches your face oftenly.
Days may come nights may go,
Everything whether in due course you know.
But one thing will remain as fresh as dew,
That is my love and affection,
I have for you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem