Dearest!
In some moment unknown,
In some oblique noon,
In some standstill gloom
Love may from grotesque bloom.
And initiates a phase of distilled sky.
The scorpions of the dialectic minds,
The wounds and burns of moral obedience,
The cheat and betrayal of fair-weather friends,
The vain drudgery of support and service,
All those as boon of love make us wise.
The wretched Lone amidst the chaffy beguiles,
While cries from within for a sheet of shelter,
The Mariner of Love Himself comes as anchor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem