Friday, 6 November 2015

Myanmar Classical Poem

Exuberant Lunar Illumination
1.Facing towards the cool and richly brilliant moon, do I long for Ratanatheinga City,
Which is the centre of triumph in Zambudipa Island, with a wish for arriving
There on my own, so that I feel unpleasant to live.
The mist is shrouding, and the forest is quite different, and the place is significant,
I've heard it before that it lies in far-reaching locality, not even I've been to.
I didn't know its exact location_where it is, or what it is.
It is a quite different place, unlike our Ratanatheinga  City, the centre of Zambudipa Island,
I've experienced different cold and heat in this deep forest.
At this time at the triumph centre of Ratanatheinga,
The rays of Golden Palace and the rays of the Sun shine undistinguishablelly.
The Pyatthat which is decorated with nine gems illumines with their rays,
And they mix with the sun rays and bright exceedingly.

2. The Sun shines brilliantly, over the whole Zambudipa island,
To be sparkling with flooding rays.
The sky scraping, lofty golden palace, giving the wonderful impression
Of the confluence of sun rays and gold rays.
I pay respect towards Golden Palace, which is decorated with glass,
When going to bed, I clear-mindedly pay respect to; when getting up from bed, I do.
At this time, in Naypyidaw, in front of the gates named in compatible combination as in,
Indra, Sinphyu, Thuzar, Tharzan, much felicity is existing.
In river and moat, clear and cold water flows, bending to the right all the time
Like Devas send it,without discriminating Summer or Moonson; this time,
in the vicinity of  Golden City, the clear water and sandbank are the most pleasant ones.

3. It is the end of Summer, and, the time to Moonson_ the lent
In Naypyidaw where the pleasant and colourful monasteries and pagodas,
Are teeming with city dwellers, who observe precepts and perform donation unitedly.
I think about it, while in a nap, like a dream I have, I feel unpleasant, nostalgic, exclaim.
It is in the state of departing, from the destined lover who is the consort since teenage,
Who is beautiful and supple. Though I send a message, she cannot be heard,
Not in the position of going there. My worries still have much duration.
My son who is like a gold slab, my daughter who is like a Singi gold,
They want to be embraced, in the bosom of their father, putting their hands against it,
Both of them who are the dearest of their parents, who are flagrant like snow dew.

Written by Minister Letwel Thondara
(Wai- Shunn-San-Dar/ Pite-Sone-Ratu)
Translated by San Lin Tun

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