Opening a book,
started with the first line.
A skillful drift and there I look,
into the ocean of fantasy, fine.
An old thought,
followed by ideas brightly lit up.
Gates to the future bought.
Contemplation all lost, in agitation I gulp.
People and places,
memories sweet and sour, countless phases.
A recap of life's chronological chases,
the mind races.
The Lord's wisdom,
taunts the lord himself.
A never ending game, losing authority's kingdom,
like to a damsel, a swain's self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem