Passing memories avoid my dreaming temper,
A fugitive sqirrel vanishes among bushes
Or like Vesper fading on suns fury.
Memories sweet mostly of yesteryears,
Lingering for some special one.
Mismerising, opulent like crystal shaped
Leap and hop in picturesque plots
Taking shapeless forms on minds soft turf.
It is said that they are not fit
For returnth; save leaving a sweet grace
In restless life with mundane look.
No tears assert the inane consolation
patting the delved heart full of vacant hopes.
No miracle of parable descends as Elf
In forsaken palace of darkness
Where empty throne begs for forgiveness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem