She shouts at me not to rise from my seat
If I get up and stand in the running bus
at some distance from the stop.
If I rush to cross the road by a dash
She asks me to wait till all the vehicles
pass off the pedestrian cross.
She tells me the details of available buses
to catch on the next day
though I saw her first, two days before.
Her smiles are bereft of hidden meaning.
Her looks are charming but not tempting.
Her manners intrigue me to know her more.
I behave like a calm sea before the womenfolk
but her looks inundate my heart with fancies
and make me restless if I fail to see that face in the morn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem