A Nun Towards Her Vagabond.
There might be a gypsy -damsel,
That for her Vagabond starts a sail,
And wishes to reveal unsaid tales,
Her poetic Muse, the Vagabond propels.
Night and day from mirage to mirage,
She expounds her will-born rage,
To liberate herself from Time-caught cage.
Her monsooned eyes turn into drought,
Save a glimpse of Vagabond all is naught.
Her East rises in the West sky,
Her heart enthrones the Vagabond well-neigh,
She tends the sense of tender bloom,
Her White Wave effaces all gloom.
The Image of 'Vagabond' stamps Love on Time,
The Vagabond bears the Chalice in all His rime
Unconsciously conscious of Timeless-retreat,
She presses her heart on the eternal gate.
Once again from the secret Cave,
Comes out the contented Shape ! ! !
A jump from within for liberty enormous,
She has caught her Vagabond by a single touch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem