If I see a wide enigmatic ocean in everlasting fever
The role of the soul will be manlier and artistic.
Yourself is the one who revolves and spins from currents,
The torrents terrify like mountainous wastes;
In the sheets of the bed are the worlds of comfort,
But where is my ocean of trouble that dissipates?
Where does my land live, and where lives my light?
The light is from a house of stupor and leniency,
It shines forth like a lovely dove of white beauty.
This light is coloured like the ocean's froth and embrace,
Like the rivers of the lands in ice, inner icebergs form
Around the men who see land's desperate plea.
From a distinct scene my distant plans are engaged,
With landscapes of inner joy, connecting our peoples.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a heartwarming poem, Naveed..10+++