Our pictures of thoughts speak of the station of our mind,
With sights and sounds of nature the soul its outlets finds.
My sister Aimee blesses my sight,
With azure blue a lark's flight.
My being transcends to the inner sky(Chidaksh) ,
And like the bird of her picture I fly.
From the remotest ancient to modern time,
The same picture of soul’s flight finds rime.
Lost in wonder, I go back to embrace my soul,
The caged bird’s renunciation, -the ultimate goal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem