My beloved poet was sick,
He was very weak and feeble,
He was lying in his bed
With dark and gloomy eyes.
I sat beside him,
His sickness was a matter of great concern for me,
But I knew his inner realm very well,
Therefore, I reminded him sincerely
About his glorious poetic journey
And how he had won his laurels in different times.
Suddenly I noticed his sick eyes
Were sparkling with great delight,
Being very excited, he held my hands firmly and stood steadily;
What a wonderful moment it was!
I could not believe it,
But soon I realised that
My dearest bard had got a new spirit,
He seemed completely fresh and well in my impeccable eyes,
He had certainly smelt the beauty and fragrance of the pleasant poetic world this time,
That's the best medicine for an ill poet who is truly great.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem