Being immersed in a dream of love
I entered my room leaving the study;
A rush of dream made me restless.
Dear Keats, you were to blame for it.
Moonlit sky of midnight peeped
Through the windows clad in silver.
She lay fast asleep; her soft arms
Benumbed with sleep, eyes fast closed, she made no movement,
Though I touched gently her curly
Locks of silky hairs, combed slowly
And sensually with my fingers.
I turned her dress loose, her body
Shining smeared with moonlight!
A divine fragrance & gentle breeze
Passed through between us;
I kissed her soft breasts, her coral lips;
I drank the youth's wine in deep cave;
Yet she woke not; Oh my dear poet!
You were to blame for it.....
For You, yes only you composed The Bright Star, that stirred me that night!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem