I have gathered your words like silver rays,
Translating light from ancient days,
From Malayalam's tender streams,
Into English—woven dreams,
guiding flame,
Not bound by land, nor time's embrace,
Yet ever near in silent grace.
In India's warmth, in London's rain,
Your voice still soothes, dissolves my pain,
A distant light, yet shining near,
A sacred echo I still hear.
At Stratford's stone, where Shakespeare sleeps,
Where time's own shadow gently weeps,
I stood in awe, yet thought of you,
Your wish for me in skies so blue.
Your messages like evening calls,
Still lift my soul, still bid me rise,
To touch the stars, to claim the skies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem