Then dim, this, your fiery mien
Dull, that, your thunder;
To show yourself, to speak up
If a lorn father.
If still thereupon, in states
Burnt and frozed are found
Dread not, but through a child's awe
Loving wonderment
Are so! Which craves too, heart-rent
Wrapped, each to each, round.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loved this poem. As Anilji has said, ‘beautifully inked'.