Like a bird perches on a greening lawn in early spring,
My eyes fell on that rare beauty and cost reason its place.
A sudden feeling it was, and a genuine feeling I wished it were
Wishing I could slide on dust, just to pamper if I could
For, I really wished to be telepathic, and transplant the epicentre
Of this powerful and wave-like but innate tumult.
I could feel It rocking within me,
Nearly thwarting and rupturing my raison d’etre in that classroom.
Seconds grew into minutes, hours, days, weeks and then months.
Her sight often rekindled the rocking, but reason regained its place,
Giving room to brain-based observation and analysis.
Yeah, “not all that glitters is gold”, I began to think.
But, two lessons I remembered: in the country of the blind,
The one-eyed is the king.
Also, the cyclical nature of things that: spring comes right after winter,
Just before summer and then autumn ushers in another winter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.