It is a thread of magic bonds
made of invisible fibres
smooth and silky it winds round and round
soft and snowy it binds me around.
as I lie charmed
enchanted by the moonlit night
it lits up one by one
the dead lamps of love unsung
as I sit near the sea of passions
when the twilight of life hastens
it strings in new silvery hues
full of dead old erosions.
as I wait in patience for the day to end
fully tired and exhausted as I repent
it traces down my bosom
some lacy fashions soothening in old fashion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem