O my cutest "Phuala", whenever you are sourly shouted at, or bitterly beaten,
Oh! With the fountain of my painful pen only the sad verses are written!
The heavenly Joys of my Jasmines cease around me to smile and smell,
For, the tides of turbulence and gloom, to rile me, soon surge and swell!
O my cutest "Phula", whenever you shed the costliest pearls of tears,
My buds of blissfulness soon wither; and dry up the serene streams of my cheers!
The silvery shines of the Full Moon of my life is soon hidden in the shades of sadness,
The calm and tranquil waves of my life's Sea gets tinted with rough and wry redness!
But, O my cutest "Phula", whenever you are merrily, leisurely and gaily at play,
Flows ceaselessly on the brink of my heart the most rapturous and coolest bay,
The cutest smiles on your softest and most unalloyed lips make ever my day,
I roam as Wordsworth among the dancing and delightful Daffodils of my heyday!
Thus, I pray to God that you may soar in the sky of life unharmed and unhurt,
May your sweetest smiles be my richest Treasure to fetch my finest Gift ever sought!
N.B. - Plula* - flower in Odia language, the poet's Mother Tongue; here it is used as a proper noun, given to a Baby Girl.
Copyright: Shankar D Mishra 15.06.19
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