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