I saw a woman last night
Striding the dimly lighted cobbled street
The moment lost,
In that hauntingly beautiful face.
She was unsmiling,
Obsessive beauty of obscurity.
An undetectable face,
Unrevealing a single trace.
We, common folks, have merely masks, not face!
Masks chiseled by vestige,
Painted by fate.
Every mask has its name
A name of a poet's melancholy
Of a philosopher's solemnity
Of an artist's desirability
She belongs to none of these categories of alluring fantasy!
Neither a name decent nor obscene
But a detached face,
I so failed to name.
Left me in longing...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem