I, like the iris flower,
Of cane!
Swing being washed and bathed,
Lustre being erect,
Spread my green-gray and silver hair,
The lover becomes mad;
One who looks at me;
The cool-west-wind
kisses me in winter,
At noon,
And when the night prevails,
Over the pole,
The winter's night
Feels hard to wane.
I know not;
How many years and centuries,
Touched my fair-body,
Embraced me,
And passed away!
An unseen sorrow,
Bubbles and boils under my bosom,
I am to be cut from the earth,
Like umbilical cord,
But not a penny would be,
Thy value'Manzar'!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Aha i see! U compare being cut off frm dis world like being cut off frm d womb, but new life awaits in both cases. A deep great poem! I hope u coment my latest poem too.