Sitting in the circus gallery
Heard I the sad and solemn music of humanity,
Sitting in the gallery
Hearing the orchestra music, taking me far
To be lost in brooding about
The circus animals and artistes' desertion.
What it is dark, let it be
As the myths of darkness
I cannot lay them bare.
A singer of Rama
He was so distraught and dishevelled
Singing the song
Standing far from
Sadly and slowly
With tears falling from the eyes
And none but he himself wiping out his tears
From his hands
To avert the gaze of the wide world,
But when approached I, saw I him not,
The spectre was gone and vanished out!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem