Moneylender going from door to door,
With baskets of money to explore,
Borrower stood up to get his hands on the wail;
Time and time again, flying the sail;
Aggressive and affordable proposals,
Loud complaint in perusal,
Rude & grim, God-God for disposal.
What kind of dialogue? Talk or lament?
Lack of grapes hanging in present;
The effect of the wine or the music of harp,
Or nature of the heart,
Wants to swallow colorful roses in morsel,
White glitter wrapped in thorns dorsal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem