Today I shall share a story of a poet,
He once picked up the sweetest flower
From the garden of love and started
Staring at it very deeply with startled eyes
Being a thoughtless, a surprised,
He enjoyed those days in glee
And being an adept, the poet often tried
To smear it with the hue of autumn's dew.
But wasn't he aware about
The dwellers of pettifogging state
Chasing from back
Since the day that golden flower he had plucked.
But his fate had such a mystic strength
that his straves defeated all the enemies.
One day while he was wandering
Near his favourite beach with his poetic leaves,
The herald suddenly had arrived before his eyes
And said, " Oh the man of strength,
Now return to our reign- start a new journey,
Endearment will never lose its sense
And those colors will never become faint."
He bent down his knees
And surrendered himself in bliss.
And went. Behold everyone, he went.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem