So early you do seldom come.
Is it two or half-past-one?
Slithering down the rope of time;
With a half-rimmed moon on a decline.
Yonder she lands with a soft, little ‘tut’;
And sneaking-in with not a grudge.
Are you early; or am I too late?
Or, is it indeed but our fate!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem