By Lakshminath Bezbaroa

A song of sorrow, a sad melody ;
A sigh in distress, rolling tears;
A black line of mourning, desire of the  thirsty;
The heartbreaking sob of a widow.
Happiness as a sudden glint of smile;
Sweet smell emanating from a rose, 
Flash of lightning revealing a moment;
Soothing moonlight and cascading water, 
The soul of the lyre flies and sings;
The flute on the branch softly murmurs, 
Graceful modesty of a woman so sweet, 
The half articulated words of a child divine.
A beautiful maid's face sweating in shyness, 
The jasmine bathed in morning dews.
The unsmelt keteki's golden pollen;
Vrindaban driven mad by Koliya's lyre.
Nature's desire is beauty coloured, 
Poetry is what a poet's imagination conceives.

Translated by Ananda Bormudoi

Click here to read the original Assamese poem

Lakshmiath Bezbaroa (b. 1864-d. 1938) was a renowned poet, novelist, playwright and satirist of Assam.