Need help in translating.

Hi ! I am translating a novel and need to know if the following translation done is correct, appropriate and makes sense. Kindly native speakers do help. Thank You.

"The sun was casting its shiny rays on the dew-morning when I reached at the bus stop traipsing. My bag was hanging over my shoulder and the water bottle was in my hand. I kept the bag on a side and sat on the bench with the stodgy mien-the same place-where I'd wait for the arrival of the bus for ten minutes daily. The weather was getting hotter day by day. The scroching heat of sun was becoming unbearable.I was sweating profusely at this time of morning. I took a sup of water in a humdrum way. My face was wearing the same perpetual exasperating expressions and my eyes were filled with indignent. I was wearing the usual attire- Long shirt along with jeans and my scarf was around my neck. I was looking around with critical eyes- sitting leg-crossed-leg. Suddenly, I realized that, that same negro was sitting beside me. It had been one and a half month since I was seeing her on this bus-stand. Seeing negroes in Islamabad is nothing to be stupefied- but she was different than that of her genre. She would wear an overcoat and would keep her head covered by making a knot of her headscarf at the back of her neck.Apparently, her complexion was black and had chubby lips- but her eyes were lustrous. Her eyes had a bizarre shine that I never ventured to have a direct contact with them.She was an eerie character. She displayed the constant comportment without any variation. She would sit with her straight back , always seeing in an undeviating direction. She was a taciturn girl- and then her weird book, of which front cover was pure black and she would hold it with a tightgrip-as if the book was valuable and precious.Her apparent attitude would demosntrate it to be an irreplaceable book.The book was an inch wide. The outlooking pages of the book were pale yellow and worn out. As if it was an antidiluvien book or heretofore nostrum ; may be any classified document or any enigmatic parable.
Between us was lying my bag and that girl was looking at my bag with her head bent down and squinted eyes where my name was written in every form and style- Mehmil Ibrahim. She would look at my bag once in a blue moon. But my entire ten minutes would spend in observing her.
Whenever I'd look at her book, my imaginations would run wild. And this curiosity had led me to waylay her.
“Excuse me ! Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.” She looked at me with her glassy eyes.
“Whose book is this?”
“It's mine.”
“I meant to ask what's written in it.”
She kept on seeing me placidly and then replied slowly.
“It has my life's story.”
“Oh really...! I thought it to be an ancient book.” I couldn't conceal my bewilderment.
“It is. It is a primitive book. It was written centuries ago.”
“Then where did you get it from?”
“From an old shop of egypt. It was lying between other books. When I took it out ; it has aeon's sands of time on it. I wiped that dust off and took it along with me. And when I read this book, I reckoned that someone had left this book there written for me.” She was patting her book lovingly and smiling vaguely. I gawked on her reply.
“What interest do you have in it?” She asked.
“I want to know more about it. Can I have a read?” She smiled slightly.
“You are a new generation of a new era.How will you understand this heretofore book?”
“But what it has. What is written in it?” My inner curiosity had began to fidget me.
“It has my past.” The clamoured horn of the bus boggled me.
“It has my present.” That negro continued saying.
“And it has my future too. What's going to happen, this book tells it all.”
“Okay. I have to go now.” I stood up holding my bag and said her apologetically and headed toward the bus.
“It states about you as well Mehmil.” I turned on my heels.
“Does it state about me? What it has written for me?” I winced at her in a nonplussed manner.
“That I should give this book to you. But I will give this book to you only when you will get tired of yourself and will come to ask for it yourself. Because it has your life's story as well. What is bygone and what is coming forth, it has written all in it.”
The horn of the bus clamoured again so I rushed toward it without replying. While clambering up the rod of the bus, I turned my head and her uncanny seemingly meaningful smile sent shivers down my spine. "