I don't understand,
what I muse. The legacies were
very rich for a long meaning.
Beauty and love, l
will read the Gita. Then comes a barren
truth in between the lies.
There was no fever. Still
the winter does not go. The candle
burns but no light at feet. Only sorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem