Be it of a rope, bamboo or gold
The tale of ecstasy isn't old.
By the breeze
Swirls up and comes down again.
In every rise a new adventure, a new mettle
Reaches the zenith and touches the ground
Yet efforts to ascend the higher invisible steps
And join the infinite
Ceaseless peregrination of man continues
For in every man
A higher psyche to meet 'the Oversoul'
Attain sublimity, serenity, summum bonum
And never look down again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a wonderful poem, Gargi. The analogy is simply great. Thank you very much.