By Bireswar Barua
The letters Of momentary acquaintance I’m counting on finger tips. A doting utterance Or A cup of coffee placed on the hand Are outside the dial of seismograph. Consequence of one’s acts? Fate? Darkness has run its hand Over such accounts on the sheet of paper! Who is capable of noting down dreams On the branches and leaves Where the squirrel wags its tail. Nursery rhyme, They’re reluctant to listen As a proof of that they’ve kept you In an insane asylum. Alas! Alas! You mad woman! Helpless—aren’t you totally— To push away with your hands The clouds Of the forenoon sky They’ve created an artificial afternoon For the canopy Over the graveyard of your youth.
Translated by Uttam Duorah
Bireswar Barua (b.1933-d.2010) was a modern Assamese poet, novelist, short story writer and critic.
Uttam Duorah, the translator, retired as the HoD, English, Women’s College, Tinsukia and is based in Tinsukia, Assam.