I can still perceive the lingo of immense sky;
Yet I've the alliance with the shower of rainy.
Though the sigh evaporates into the breeze;
Still I'm capable, capturing them into my grip;
Able to blow up blueing bliss in the canary nightfall.
Still I'm operative to step in my credent feet
Without learning the boundary of anchor,
I'm still the indomitable Captain.
What sort of love if disable to be inflammable;
If unable to carry out the lissom ingle of sigh?
The Classical separation teaches me-
"Anticipation is amour."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem