Those mornings dawned
With songs and scent and colour,
There was a hope, a thrill
To meet you,
You the daughter of eve
Who could have pacified
My fuming manly heart
With satiation less love,
Who could have cured
My burning aches
With a cool soft touch.
Now also mornings dawn
But so practical and real
For no more wait for you,
No thrill, colour, scent, song…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
poet in a very depressed mood? ? emotion packed words... regards sandhya