A poet of love,
Beauty and fragrance,
Rizvi in Unfading Blooms
Takes up the weaver,
The young priestess,
The soldier.
Walking down the memory lane,
He senses wandering fragrance,
Roses blooming,
The heart in love.
The Lake Is Stirred,
The Buds, Anklet Bells,
The Sea,
The Lament of Flowers,
The poems.
The boat floating on the sea waters,
Betwixt the sea and the sky,
Going solitarily
Is an Audenesque poem
Doing the rounds.
The picture of the fisherman he draws
Is ditto,
As seen in the Indian context,
Toiling hard
Morn to dusk, full of toil, tears, sweat and blood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem