Had I known your genius, the talent which you have,
It would have been surely my blessedness,
I would have felt blessed
And looked up to Him an all my thankfulness,
Had I known your innocence, your ignorance,
The nature of being innocent, guileless and simple,
Uncorrupted by the world and its coquetry,
Ignorant totally, kept in the dark
And trying to know simply.
I see the wild flowers blooming and scattering,
The grassy blooms just as tiny specks of flowers,
The weeds, creepers and plants in flowers,
Their colour, hue and beauty,
Redolence coming from
And compare with
And feel it within the sweetness of yours,
The fragrance of yours, I mean, your goodness
Which the wide world knows it not.
And how can it be that I shall call myself talented,
A genius incomparable,
How, how can it be that I am only gifted with and talented?
You go out and try to see it
How the people lie in talented,
There are many whose innocence and ignorance
Have many a thing to teach,
There are many small girls and boys who paint extraordinarily,
Without being taught
And whose paintings we want to thro it away
In the absence of an expert, a specialist
And had it been the gemologist or jeweller before
He could have diamond.
You have many a thing to learn from which you have not,
Think it not that you know it all,
What more do you about culture and tradition,
Have you seen the people from some cultural families,
Have you tried to know their courtesy, good manners and etiquette,
You first go and see
To relay it to me
And this cultural aspect too has the significance of its own
Which but you know it not, I myself too know it not
And both of us have to learn it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.