Sweet are the creative spots
Of my pensive retreat towards yore,
Haunts the poet in me and leads to the fancy shore
Duties are carefully forgotten, gift me naught.
Promises result in ruin
Discipline thrown away, goes vain
Mourning sensations are boasted by its rain
I hear my heart, twittering sparrow amidst din.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem