¤¤¤¤¤¤
When I decide to hang my quill
Whose ink by then would've stopped to drip
And the verses it wrote would've been embroidered
On the great city-walls.
Do not call to my singing,
Or dip my poems into seas of rythym,
Do not shed a drop of sweat
Trying to punctuate my poems
For beauty abides where it belongs,
All the more so when 'Nature' is involved,
All those by themselves
Shall find a way into my poems
Like water and sunlight and air,
And the human sense perfectly placed themselves
Like the lungs, when it felt the dire need
Of humans to live and breathe,
Like 'Nature' created us in twos
As only so can we reproduce,
So like, shall my poem beautify themselves
To trek with time after my death
Because 'Nature' works in mysterious ways
And rightly so! And rightly so!
Even if it forgot man's dire need
Of the Ozone layer when it started to deplete
Behold! 'Nature' that created Earth
Shall beautify and punctuate my poems,
So says my atheist friend.
.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem