The biography of love always
speaks of volumes,
recollections always reverberates
like thunder
when silently glows the moon
depicting a time
when princesses loved with zeal,
when princes fought vindictively
on battlefields
when laurels and lust
lost to duel and dust.
History is marvel
when entwined with a story of love,
love itself is a fierce contest
when rivals fight to conquer an empress;
nothing predominates a mind
greater than possessiveness,
ceaseless is that fire
which lights up the heart
with obsessiveness;
either lovers die or unite
either dreams get lost
or passion gets victorious.
Our myths, our legends
our customs, our traditions
our races, our religions
our castes, our creeds
are our sense of pride and our propriety,
these are chapters so deep-rooted in our culture,
one such epic revealed a poignant story
of Padmavati and the prowess of her beauty,
so unfathomable was her poise and eminence
so unforgettable was her courage and sacrifice
that it inspires our womenfolk and generations.
Padmavati O' Padmavati
can anyone ever submerge
the lustre your epic exhibits
in our reminiscence
when our nation's aestheticism
is so full of magnificence?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem