A statue of Radha and Krishna,
Found from the rubble and debris,
The ruins, mounds
Of the falling
And dilapidating temples,
Old-old, centuries-old
And made from
Limestone powder and small bricks,
You give me, give the statue,
Blackly, but cast in gold,
You give me, give me
As the eyes believe it not
That this could be,
Thus could be
And I would get,
Get a thing historical,
Of to be kept in the museum,
Priceless and rarer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem