The Bird of Beauty started singing
And it did not want how its whereabouts
Then the Muse brought before me
Vast mountain ranges
Competing jutted peaks
In Nepal. India and the Himalayas
And mists thick and dense
Competing in those heavens immense
And then white enlarged and robed
I saw my Mother
Soul and Body, immortal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem