O' yet it drops all torments-
To rise, and cheer up again,
While time was climbing through,
Stairs -
of your little-home - of love.
He says eyes were calm,
Like dew folded to spark of dawn,
Fascinate the wired man onto field-
They were the lazy with slowing pace of dreams!
Lips were murmuring -
The beauty, like morning adorned,
With new blends-
I realize, thus to have no range -
When darkness approaches to cloud.
O' yet I remained a quite-night as life-
As sun hails, the path-holder,
To Beauty of the World.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem