I am yet, a singer but poor,
Singing of love to you,
I am unable to offer more
Than a marble Taj Mahal
In the courtyard of my heart.
Oam but a poor sheperd
Simfing of you to you,
Who cannot hear,
Because fo our state,
I know you like my love
so pure and serene,
Which you can keep forever,
In your hidden thoughts,
Even if you depart from me,
to a distant land with another
A man I know will not be liked,
As much as you liked this
Poor singer of silent plains.
i will keep my love for you,
Always wrapped in sadness
Of not getting my most loved one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem