Words silent turn at the melodic tunes
Oozing from the lush lilts of your eyes;
Telling of stung lover's anthems warm,
Of the rapt poet whose scribbling dies.
Windows into realms old lyricists laud,
Whereon Love and Truth twain thrive;
Each by doubtful duplicities unscarred,
Unsullied by decays of greediest drive.
See how the language of your look,
As some evanescent lover's secret,
Amid rosy violets resistless shines;
Inviting once-bitten soul truthful yet?
Methinks your mien undeceiving sews
Back to peace yester-heartbreak's all;
Reshaping pulses' rhythms wounded...
Still-white breasts darkened by brawl.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem