Tingling with tinged lotus,
You come and set your foot,
In the heart of an ardent widow,
Or in the desert of an waif.
And at once therein springs,
Treasures ever unseen,
And Time and Sorrow resign.
Your advent itself is prize,
There happens the miracle of new-sunrise,
The greedy look, ego’s book,
No longer linger their vacation,
The blind mind and fake reason find solution.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem