Still and radiant backwater visage
Had adornments of morning majesty;
Fading off to the green inland.
Many a freshwater fish still in trance
By the mossy notch of water-cellars;
Their only not-so-safe shelter.
Tiny wooden snakes appeared
Rippling off the glossy, stagnant surface
On their course from the nocturnal labor.
Thin mist-veil slowly dropped
On the soft sod as the tender golden rays
Cast over the bright green leaves;
A celestial decree of scenic ecstasy!
Train still had her alert course
Fleeing off such beautiful instances.
Acumen was found trampled
By the bare village feet since ages,
As the lilt of toil kept echoing ever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem