သိ ဂၤ ါ ရ

Music, when soft voices die,

Vibrates in the memory –

Odors, when sweet violets sicken.

Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,

Are heaped for the beloved’s bed –

And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,

Love itself shall slumber on…

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY (1792-1822)

Tags: ENGLISH POEMS, TRANSLATION

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