By Govinda Das

Ghosha:  O’ Soul Govinda Gopala
                   You’ve set, O my Kind-Heart, the game of Maya

Pada :      A house was made with care and hope for the living
                  That house was blown away while it was storming
                  O Mind, make the house and fasten the door
                  Leaving your home the others’ you cry for 
                  Rafters are set in rows for the ridge two beams fixed
                  Twenty posts in all are firmly pitched
                  It is dark for walls raised on all four sides
                  Nine doors are fastened on all nine sides
                  At nine points are nine sentries on guard 
                  Within is sitting Hari, the all-cheering God
                 There is a woman that house to manage
                 One who stays away from her is a great sage
                 And there is a river that flows so fast
                 Across two birds Time and Timeless stay perched
                That pair of purple birds with the bluish-black wings
                 Have never ever come across as hatchlings
                 The swan has flown away leaving behind its feathers
                 On the sands of the Jamuna that body also weathers
                 Says this the slave Govinda again and again 
                 But the feet of the Guru no ways remain

Translated by Nirendra Nath Thakuria

Govinda Das, an Assamese poet of the 18th century.

Nirendra Nath Thakuria, retired Associate Professor of English, is a translator.

Click here for the original Assamese poem.

By Jatindra Kumar Borgohain

At the end of a long night
A terrible day dawns.
The sun descends.
Light spreads terror.
The unforgettable dawn
The wings of fear
In the heart of a dream.

Translated by Ananda Bormudoi

Jatindra Kumar Borgohain (b. 1950-d.2013) was an Assamese poet, author, journalist and social activist.

Click here for the original Assamese poem.

By Jyotiprasad Agarwala

Know I know I know
Nothing goes in vain, my song too
All my drops of tear
Merging with the shrine water
Will gleam on the worshipper 
In every cell of him.

Know I know I know
All my songs are so novel
Smell like lotuses in bloom
I know I know
They'll wake the world's soul.

That morning star lonely yonder
Lost in the song of its own
Sets in the lap of dawn
Giving its smile in the glow
Know I know I know
Nothing goes in vain, its song too.

Wake up in novel rhythm
All lotus words mute in charm
Gather in chorus in countless voices
Wake up honeyed melody in ecstasy.

Translated by Nirendra Nath Thakuria

Jyotiprasad Agarwala (b.1903-d.1951) was a noted poet, songwriter, playwright, filmmaker and freedom fighter of Assam.

Nirendra Nath Thakuria, retired Associate Professor of English, is a translator.

Click here to read the original Assamese poem.

By Nirmalprabha Bordoloi

If somehow the smell of the wintry fields
Reaches my nose
I recover my father

In the fragrance of the gamosa 
Laid open from its folds in the shop
I recover my mother

For my children
Where shall I leave myself,
Where?

Translated by Krishna Dulal Barua

Nirmalprabha Bordoloi (b.1933-d.2004) was an Indian poet, lyricist and folklorist of Assam.

Krishna Dulal Barua is a prominent translator and writer based in Nagaon, Assam. He received the Katha Award for translation in 2005.

Click here to read the original Assamese poem.