Wandering over several woods wide,
never wavering astray
by illusion of any gorge,
surmounting many an impediment
in my life limpid,
never deeming darkness
as a distress,
never thinking light
to be a delight,
for a remote way
ahead I've continued to forge
with my head humbly bent.
Gratifying every bank-dweller
with offering of water,
fruitfulness of my birth
I'm realizing worth.
[Translated from original Oriya epic-poem ‘Tapasvini' By Dr. Harekrishna Meher]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem