The coarse inner voice changes into a tune,
Which fits perfectly on the notes to reflect on,
The wind from the desert and the storm,
Goes through the holes and touches all strings,
The mind gets softened and worries exit,
And not returns for sometime while calm,
Wrapping all those green leaves from the palms,
Twisting in the pipes of bamboo clam,
Sweating in the snow with no fire palm,
Thousands of wonderful chants and songs,
The muddy mind never settled with a bang,
Wrinkles found on the surface profound,
The rough inner voice changes into a melody,
Peace found the tract to reach the heart,
Time takes its own sweet interval shot,
Peace will prevail with well written notes…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Time takes its own sweet interval shot, Peace will prevail with well written notes… Beautiful concluding lines in beautifully composed poem. Thank you.