My love, she dwells along enchanting shores,
That waves caress and balmy breezes keep,
On which sands lay printed those mystic lores,
That got erased with every tidal sweep;
As she conjures that moment of the past,
Of flower ripped in yet its primal years,
When petals left behind did never last,
Despite the rain, which just disguised her tears;
A mist of sadness still beclouds her eyes,
To complement the shyness in her smile,
Or coyness, that dies not, though hard she tries,
In life bereft of plan, design and guile;
.....My love is such to world that deems just right,
.....To send down hailstones, just as rainbows bright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem