Evenings are filled with the melody of the flute,
Peacocks dancing at the tunes of your feet,
Feathers fluttering hearing your magical voice,
Is it the sun’s shadows or your silhouette that gives,
The beauty to the serene nature during the dusk.
Peacocks dancing at the tunes of your feet,
Feathers fluttering hearing your magical voice,
Is it the sun’s shadows or your silhouette that gives,
The beauty to the serene nature during the dusk.
Which is more beautiful? The Waterfalls of the heaven,
Or the beauty of Your hair falling with mesmerizing rhythm,
The rhythm engulfed in the divine music played from the flute,
To be heard by fairies in heaven, who show their love,
Which is the purest of all, in this whole existence.
I know where to find heaven, not to be distracted by findings,
Of sages, who perform penance for years and years on.
It’s in your hands, which holds the garland of love,
Love of your unassuming beauty, and care that matches none.
Heaven is the place, where our love blossoms, for ages unknown.
Heaven envies you, for being more beautiful than anything it has,
From flowers to flavors of all that exists in it.
You are that rare beauty, that I hold dear to me,
In times of good or in times of despair,
Full of love, to be cherished for eternity.

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