You and I shall go along the same path. In spite of holding hand in hand We cannot become fellow travelers. The journey is very lonely. The path is safe and secure And yet the companion is forbidden. Taking off silently my old garments Throwing away the green dream of life I am silently moving on. Hands worn thin Drudging all the way Are now bare. In this silent moment laden with pain I promise to you Never to come back.
The Postman of Sorrow
The postman of sorrow Strolls at the gate of my heart. He always brings me letters of sorrow. Sometimes the words come Like sad dark clouds And at other times they rage like a storm And shatter into pieces My home of hope. And yet at other times They rain heavily And my heart is flooded. Words turn into angry oceans. I keep swimming With the shore nowhere at sight. The trees weep The flowing river turns its back on me. Digging into the hearts of the words I myself turn into A river of sorrow.
Translated by Ananda Bormudoi
Hemaprova Moran is an Assamese poet based in Kakopathar, Tinisukia, Assam.