Dummy Lady

Probably this was last year,
In our Burma independence ceremony,
My eyes caught by her beauty;
She was wearing
A yellow attire in her royalty

Probably, this has been
A lost piece from my memory
I resurrect her shape
Still so shadowy;
Groping her charm as originality
Beautification was
Just modesty

Probably, this was my ego,
Had I never seen
Erudite queens of beauty,
Ohnmardhanti or Papavati
Buddha himself had been nutty,
Still I said,
They were oblivion
In her reigning contemporary

I started quarrelling with my nerves,
Craving aggrandized to think
She is my destiny;
Dragging myself gradually to Beauty,
To my amaze,
Born were new opinion and unprecedented philosophy,
Nirvana was vaporized for humanity;
I was curious how her pre-life wishes
So cute to be;
Vigilant from far or near sight,
Unarguably she was the most pretty

To my luck,
One special day, in a dim hall of the guest dormitory,
Again this is she

A greeting with untold words,
A significant smile in her flickering lips
Seeing a bloom of love for a tyro,
My steps are now back to the age of chivalry

At last, I am at her distance not to be blind
Alas, I have a murmur,
This is the damn artist who carved his imaginary chime
She was an unseasoned sculpture.

Translated from Panputhuzar of Myoma Nyein by Moe Tee