At the end of dusk it beckoned me to sleep
So I lay among it's roots strong and deep
On a bed of softly mulching leaves
Like memories shed long ago…
With every nuance of the wind
Felt it's jewel red flowers rain upon me
There I was secure
There I was serene
And even though it shall provide no respite
From the burning morning sun
And hurt me with it's sharp dry thorns
I shall not care…..
For ah! I'm in love with a Rakta Mandara tree
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem