Late night I am still at my door waiting.
The ring of my favorite, to hear from
You. I long for this to hear this ringing.
And my longing still unbearing till I hear
The sounds of my dream.
I pay the price of waiting.
It is heavy, as the burden of Atlast is heavy.
The only gitf of the night, to hear the nicest
voice of the midnight nymp.
And her voice is clear, a crystal of the late
night.
She is far she said, far at the late night
Too far to reach, too far to fetch.
But like the late night be over.
My waiting for her will never.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is beautiful, Jhowel.... the longing is real en grabs at the reader.