My dear!
I am all mad to hold you near.
I am sad to lose you ever.
Now and then I pay you my care.
To return it bare, you didn’t brave.
My beloved!
No day passed that I have not loved.
No week passed that I have not versed.
No month is gone, I have not emoted.
You never requited, simply stored.
My darling!
You are all the time in my noting.
No one blooms as you did, in my writing.
No one moved you as I did, in wooing.
I am doting, seemingly in vain.
My sweet!
You know, a moth in life never sulks
That the Tulip by no time beckoned
And that it never had a suck or hug.
Yet the moth is on move to gladden.
You, a fixed Sun,
I, a revolving Earth,
there is a pull between us,
the pull being not unilateral.
25.04.2001, Pmdi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem