- My Stella - 74
Death seems dreadful to all aspirant hearts,
Death is the end of chattering mind.
No one wants the end of tidal waves - to be ceased, to be quiet.
The bubble though too pimping and miniature,
It is full to enjoy the cessation.
Death is the end of clinging and holding,
The more close we are to death the more proximate the life follows.
Life rests at death and mind with all its wish and appeal melts into quietness of everlasting
The black cloud with shower of densely deep darkness doth delve in my heart the flash of anamnesis of elapsed days.
With my family and friends of my childhood days,
The misery and peril of poverty and joy of living in mud and dirtiness.
Broken hut with young heart was the elysian bower,
Hungry, sad and elegiac were my quotidian life.
My parents born poor lived poor and richly deserve a departure with poor hearts.
My heaven is gone with the riches that balm the seeking heart of mine with repugnant cosiness.
Childhood passion is no more and I am drawn to you - to your wild eyes, beauty of my defunct days,
Your heart with similar pain and passion gleams my heart and my envision lost.
I am a consumed flame and my inner dolour finds metaphor in you.
You are my pain inborn and intrinsic and motivation to end the cycle of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem