In one of my nights
They came, seven dogs, at my window
And started barking on a high rock.
A single dog at the door is a pride.
But seven are not seven prides.
They started theirs and I mine.
They spoke very proudly on each others
Like men when they are seven.
I stopped mine as they went on.
I drew my curtain apart
And peeped through my window
There they are!
Alive, alike, and allied
With heads high and body pulled back
To speak to the peak, may be to the God!
I knocked on my windowsill to frighten them
Alas! they didn't mind and bother
Yes! they are correct.
Why should they get frightened
When they are seven? ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem