My waking hours are now engulfed in dreams,
Reality became a twilight maze,
An interlude between silvery beams,
And tropic sun's scorching, hot, blinding blaze;
As shroud of night darkens to shadows deep,
And dark blue skies acquire a sleepy hue,
I'm lulled to sleep like babe in mother's keep,
While I pretend as whispered to by you;
The scent of thousand blooms pervades the air,
Your presence that is wafted all around,
Where else should beauty dwell, if to be fair,
If not in face of yours where it is found;
......It has been said, beauty is joy, oh fine,
......But wish I, such a thing of joy be mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem