My words turn into flowers of love pious
Set into rhetoric of a lover overly joyous.
Depicting every hue be it red, pink or blue,
Mysticism beyond surmise even to get a clue.
Love, I feel, is god’s manifestation, in my heart,
His convivial gesture to bind relations falling apart.
Presume I to make these reach you, never to shrink,
Nectar of your love will rejuvenate them ever I think.
Touch them softly in a ceremonious manner devoted.
Decorate them in the garden of your heart so coveted.
Words are mute but speak a lot on a lover’s behest,
Listen their pleadings or yearnings to calm my unrest.
Countless I will create these words all along my days,
Unheeded will not go my poetry of love or loving lays.
Even if you give a moment of your precious time,
Please they will your heart with rhythm and rhyme.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem