Helpless as a deer stuck in silt
Harrowed by hunger and thirst
He is now an angry boy.
He is waiting for the Bordoichila
Now every tree in the woods plays in unison
The Kichaka flutes of freedom.
…………………….
Bordoichila: Pre-monsoon storm in Assam.
Kichaka: A variety of bamboo.
Translated by Krishna Dulal Barua
Nalinidhar Bhattacharya (b. 1921-d.2016) was a noted poet and critic of Assam.
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 byNirendra Nath Thakuria
Govinda Das, an Assamese poet of the 18th century.
Nirendra Nath Thakuria, retired Associate Professor of English, is a translator.
সাম্প্ৰতিক অসমীয়া কবিতা সম্পৰ্কে আপোনাৰ ধাৰণা কি?
সাম্প্ৰতিক অসমীয়া কবিতাই যথেষ্ট উচ্চ স্থান দখল কৰিবলৈ সক্ষম হৈছে। দেশে-বিদেশে অনুষ্ঠিত হোৱা কবি সন্মিলনবোৰলৈ আমন্ত্ৰিত হৈ অসমৰ ভালেমান নমস্য কবিয়ে নিজৰ সুকীয়া স্থান অধিকাৰ কৰিবলৈ সক্ষম হৈছে। বিশ্বমানৰ কবিতা লিখা আমাৰ ৰাজ্যৰ কবিসকলৰ কবিতা ভিন ভিন ভাষালৈ অনুবাদ নোহোৱাৰ পৰিপ্ৰেক্ষিতত তেওঁলোকৰ প্ৰতিভা দেশৰ ভিতৰতে আবদ্ধ হৈ থকাটো বৰ পৰিতাপৰ বিষয়।
কবিসকলৰ প্ৰতি আপোনাৰ কি আহ্বান?
কবিতাৰ পথাৰ চহাই-মৈয়াই উৎকৃষ্ট ফচল জগতসভালৈ উলিয়াই দিবলৈ কচৰৎ কৰি থকাসকলক কিবা ক’ব পৰাকৈ মই যোগ্য হৈ উঠা নাই। এতিয়াও মই শিকাৰুহে। সামাজিক মাধ্যমৰ জৰিয়তে বহু নতুন নতুন কবিয়ে কবিতা চৰ্চা অব্যাহত ৰাখি নিৰ্দিষ্ট স্থান অধিকাৰ কৰিবলৈ সক্ষম হৈছে। এটা কথা মই বাৰে বাৰে অনুভৱ কৰোঁ, কবিতা লিখিবলৈ আনৰ ভাল কবিতা পঢ়িবই লাগিব আৰু সময়ে সময়ে ৰূপ সলনি কৰা কবিতাৰ নিৰ্মাণশৈলীক আয়ত্ত কৰিবলৈ কবিতাক হৃদয়েৰে ভাল পাব লাগিব।
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 byAnanda Bormudoi
Jatindra Kumar Borgohain (b. 1950-d.2013) was an Assamese poet, author, journalist and social activist.
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 byNirendra 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.
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 byKrishna 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.
Now, just now I have set me on fire
Burnt up my ancient wings
Wings I could not fly with anymore
But only flapped the wind—the wind
And aroused mockery and despair
I have set my backbone, thousand years old, aflame
Whence sprang forth countless branches of brittle bones
The fluid in their marrow dried up.
I have set my ancient heart on fire
Stuck in stasis
Like clock hands standing still
In an eternally meaningless present.
Burnt up my obsolete wisdom
Buried in the bulk of my inert pride.
Ah! My age-old body-sap enmeshed in the senses
Is burning
With an ecstasy of self-annihilating delight!
With the letters in my own funeral ashes, I thought,
The name of my father would be scripted on water
I thought the funeral ashes would nurture
the dream harvest of future.
I didn't know that it was only me who fathered myself
I didn't know that it was only me who was born of myself.
In a strange flare of light
I had a glimpse of my funeral pyre
Shadow of my father
In the cool touch of strange death
I could feel the warmth of my fuel
My offspring
My blood
I was born
I was born.
Translated byDr Pori Hiloidari
Navakanta Barua(b.1926-d.2002) was a noted Assamese poet, novelist and translator.
Dr. Pori Hiloidari is a critic and award winning translator of Assam. She teaches English in Handiqui Girls’ College, Panbazar, Guwahati.
Hours before I'd a few glasses of liquor
The inebriation hasn't died down altogether
Perhaps in this way
The entire night will pass over
Sometimes I drink in this way!
And its inebriation shifts me to the serene woods of my mind
Where
I converse with myself
About issues never conferred with anyone before
How pleasant are these nights!
Where the puffed paddy of words burst*
Among stars in the azure sky
The river of my heart cleanses
The wholesome body of the night
With its cool mellifluous water
...............
* puffed paddy of words burst : distinct articulation of words (Assamese idiom)
Translated byKrishna Dulal Barua
Hiren Bhattacharya (b.1932-d.2012) was an Assamese poet and lyricist best known for his lyric poems.
Krishna Dulal Barua is a prominent translator and writer based in Nagaon, Assam. He received the Katha Award for translation in 2005.
Here is our grandmother, eighty years old.
Ignoring the scorching mid-day sun during summer
And the devastating flood
Ignoring winter cold alike
She moves on with her flowing grey hair like jute.
I met her and asked her,
"What have you been looking for, Aita
Bending over your stick
And scrutinizing the ground?"
Aita looked up to me
Raising her pale eyes
And told me one thing,
"You will not understand my dear.
I am looking for the lost twenty years of my youth and dreams
Wondering if it perished in the dust of the road."
Translated by Ananda Bormudoi
Hem Barua (b.1915-d.1977) was a noted Assamese poet and politician.