Do old hearts die like embers gold to grey
losing their glow and warmth to slow decay?
Or is the eternal spark a deathless thing
that can relish even in frigid times
the passion and the joys of thrilling spring?
Can it, if this be so, thus generate
the light of love and sensibility
amidst the darkness of a senseless world
lost in the densest fog of selfish quests
and retain the gold in a cold, cold world?
I still have hopes of lighting up a flame,
the guiding flame of life that marches on
with faith and confidence in Eternal Spring
where that which falls and dries and rots away
is cast like slough by soul lit by warming rays.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really a beautiful work of art elegantly crafted in persuasive poetic expressions with conviction. An insightful reflection on love. Thanks for sharing, Padma.