As kite which only wishes clearest sky,
To soar highest over each cloud which floats,
Likewise, my love, rushing to you would I,
To be the foremost thought your mind promotes;
As foam which drifts, aimless, in churning sea,
And carried off in rising of the tide
By wayward joys that once prevented me,
I rush back to the shore, towards your side;
The wind which whispers in my ear your name,
Might do well sweeping me, to post somewhere,
And then, to you would also do the same,
And by the kindest luck would lodge us there;
....On any place goes our tryst, even dreams,
....And better still, if moon there brightly beams.
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I would like to translate this poem