Under the moonlit nights,
Who is she talking with the stars
Under the mist and the dews?
Who is, who is the maiden
With the star as flower
Plucked and put into the hands
Going in the dark?
Under the moonlit nights, who the maiden going,
Talking with the stars
And the fair, fine and icy fresh rajanigandha sticks
Full of whitely blooms,
Dreamy and strangely scented,
Smiling and talking?
O, love's talks!
I just marking her from my window.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem