Rose Sherbet
Leaves speak
-while moving in breeze
-whispering complaint:
- "It is cold, very cold."
They hurdle, make pile
-turn tinder, for fire.
I look in side-mirror
-behind me, driver
-a lady. Some woman,
-with a rose below nose;
-very young, half-opened.
Tastier are the words
-when leave and travel…
Voyagers on voyage
-sweetly do convert;
-as is with the sherbet
-English, (of Persian…)
liquid if at first
-freezes in latter;
-all the rest similar.
Her lips are exact same
-as seen in poems of
-Nizami to Hafez.
(Where mind is with my thought.)
Feel the warmth, sweetness
-of sherbet, of her bud;
-kissing it times and times…
-though apart, in two cars! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem