There is a matter that has almost come upto my lips,
This is evident in my eyes,
Sometimes from you, sometimes from me,
They ask for words,
To take their shape and come to my lips,
And to be embraced by my voice,
But this matter,
Is a feeling…only a feeling,
Floating in air like fragrance,
Fragrance which has no voice,
About which you know
and i know too,
It’s not hidden from the world,
What kind of a secret is this?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
maybe he prefer his life to be an open book to benefit others.