Heart, temper thy wishful hour
With fitting vase of soil life,
Grasses of mediocrity that abounds on thine
In all monotonous hour of earth
Quivers at mild breeze
Or shudders at a faithful glance of lifes daily beatings;
A rootless longivity, a never maturing sapling.
Heart, glowing over average dream table,
Flaunted by all triflings
In middle class temple
With inhospitable care of fairy looks,
Ever melting on bed warming
Drowning all soften sense in feminish bondage.
Heart, thou vasing shape in beloved nest
Enjoying all bunch grapes on nightlong feast
Loosing let younger jests with all fashionable manners.
Heart, a soil vase, how much safe in such tremor hours?
What if starts rolling for downward gains
Fled faraway before her gown set- - -
What wrong dribbling those magic balls
Plenty for another nightlong stratagem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem