Mysterious Beauty Poem by Rahman Mostafiz

If beauty, waves of your reclusive course,
In you, in boisterous solitude, groans
Let me hover, in no erectile hours,
There, for I have promises to own.

If beauty, flames of your tranquil pose,
In you, in murmuring serenity, cries
Let me die once and more
For it, for I’ve been tied with cementless ties.

For beauty, as Mahatma Gandhi finds,
Lies in you, overflowingly abundant,
Let me cultivate that hinterland
Where it dances with veils absent.