The Sun goes down, using up Sunshine,
The inevitable sword of the Kalpurush
Glow in the darkness of
The fear stricken night sky...
I am a poet, limited is my skill
The treacherous brass whistle
Of the spectre haunted sentry at
The street junction,
Upset my poetry's meaning...
Using up sunshine,
There goes down
The Golden Sun...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really I like this poem! ! ! Top maks! !