Yet surprisingly they lift up-
And evening sun is not drunk,
As contends from her shooting eyes,
Revolts and beauty have left its entire spark.
Cattles are fed up their grass-
Cow-boy is still strolling with her,
But it moves elsewhere as hungry-
Like sun is covered within your arms!
She hails from high eye brows-
As going vertical with splendid limits,
Of the twittering sea, of a sunset!
And as like my dreams flew to blue!
O'often and everywhere it's distinguished,
And virtual, like he departs farther to her-
As these birds are crawling over the dust,
Dazed! Beauty has only one name in the Pen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem