Last three years are similar to the summer season of a inhospitable surroundings
Where there is not a solitary mist of possibility in these limitless Ethereal Plain,
Who is relentlessly marauding on us by the harsh weaponry of blistering sun?
But as long as you was nearby that Banyan tree sitting with your maids,
A scent of respite flies of your body to ensure me that a hot and sticky summer,
Was yet to arrive in my life, as when on earth the breeze from that Far East travels,
It laid a hand on your dazzling carcass with sense coyness and metamorphoses,
Into a sub-zero blustery weather that hark back me the glacier of those North Atlantic,
Where adorable penguins play with their chum to get rid of the Arctic climate,
That results razor sharp snow flurry,
Which is proficient to sink even the superlative, Yacht of all time.
But this freezing current of air will not wreak my castles of daydream,
Instead it will safeguard my warmth of survival in your breast,
Where I used to spend my adult years in appreciating its exquisite prettiness,
As its beauty makes me undergo the experiencing of sitting in the clouds of nirvana,
The native land that salutes all the lovers to rejoice their passion for love,
In the highlands of Mount Cucumber, a natural wonder in the creation of which,
God had excelled Himself; the turquoise shades of the cloud sky seemed to merge,
With the sparking hues of water and reflection of the entire Cucumber range of mountains,
Seemed painted on this rippling blue-green canvas.
A hope still retain in my heart that one day you will certainly say something,
That there is no place in this whole cosmos close to Nirvana,
To be acquainted with our each other love!