In fissure of your lips, mirrored I my world And in my eyes, appeared the pink sky of love; An unrested, uncolored was a bereft life, but Being peopled in her palm I descried the caravan soon. For sometimes it vanished, for a while, and the enemies Seemed to become the sentinels of farm of my love. Lunacy of adoration or a stupidity it to call? That on my dry face, she viewed her own world.
Once your lips purses O, manhood cuddles to die for; It is a charisma that I could see here right now, In the name of hollow desires, withered my young heart It is seldom you’re that the beauty returned, therefore Whenever I guess peace, you come to me. Yeah! Whole world sees you, oh India! as that mistress.