I keep the verse saplings hidden
Tell them not sprout unbidden Throw the self in vortex of work
See 'n' hear a lot with lips sealed
But when the leaves turn yellow
And sighs sad come from a fellow
In his autumnal tale I walk along
Unlatching the gates of pent-up feelings
Knocking the dams that held them fast
Then words stir to life
Blossoming in poetic strife
Nothing then keeps the saplings asleep
Sprout they must higher, or go deep.
-- Sharad Rajimwale
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem