The front is bedecked with flowery lotus,
The back rises with the shine of the smile,
The genial fountains, knowing no beguile.
The memories bank lies green in love's vase,
As trillion suns, from divine Arpita's placid face.
The recollection is free of motion and senses' trace.
The waiting waits to be turned into abstract,
As the death vanishes from recorded life,
And lonely lea, the mother divine hugs the waif.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem