Love is not always a blessing.
When rain washed gulmohar buds
Take you by the collar
And hurl you dizzying
Trembling, day dreaming, towards life—
Words deprived of future prospect
Begotten of other monsoon evenings
Cast their long shadow
Over your shoulders;
Trapping fledgling illusions of light
Turning your twilight into night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice use of words... Nice way to describe... Enjoyed the poem.