There is no such thing as morning star
Stars are beauties of the night
The eyes with which God watches the sleeping child
Don't tell me you know when you know not
Say you don't know when you actually know
The stars know a lot of secrets
Yet, they twinkle at us, with lots of innocence
I remember, as a child, I use to call them beautiful
Shame! They're not as beautiful in words
As they are in my soul in my heart
I see them as the eyes of God
Watching the sleeping child
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem