The monk that she had met,
Complemented her soft,
‘You look beautiful’, he said,
she was shocked and felt wild,
He had a few books in his hands,
And a pony tail on his shaven head,
The colorless beads around his neck,
Tucked his waist cloth at the back,
The cotton man not made here,
He had the slang, native in nature,
she picked up a holy book from his hand,
Not because she wanted to be sinless,
As the pious monk was bold to call her,
Beautiful and fair as the snow white,
the cute little cousins around her,
automatically had become the dwarfs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem