An unblossomed flower-like, I stay;
In youth, to spend each sleepless night till Dawn;
Opens my petals, heralding a day;
Perfuming air with dew-drops, I cry by morn.
How long I add on to the beauteous land?
Or will I turn a drooping flower soon?
Will I be plucked off by an unknown band?
Or stay to form the fruit with seed by Moon?
Or will I be a fallen flower young?
Or will my lover bee visit my home?
Or will the scorching sun, make me unsung?
Or will I be prey to some ghastly worm?
Each youth is like the unblossomed flower;
If blessed by God, It will be in His bower.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem