Hemaprova Moran’s Poems

The Balance Sheet 

Left alone I sit
Facing myself 
And open the balance sheet 
For a reckoning. 
I take stock of the rainbow dreams 
Found and lost.
The moon loses moonlight 
And the sky submerges in the ocean. 
Age advances in ones and tens. 
Cares and duties 
Get added as time moves on. 
Desires decrease 
As time hurries on. 
Divider divisible and dividen
All get mixed up 
Resulting in nothingness. 
Nothing has been multiplied 
Half done deeds 
Are in a state of confusion 
And mistakes.
May be I could not learn
The sum of life. 
Or what I learnt was all wrong.
The simple arithmetic 
Or the equations.
Is it life
That searches for a black cat
In a dark room 
That is not there?
In Search of a Poem's Address

I spent all my life in search of an address of a poem
Ranging from the fresh green leaves
To the tragic strains of the fallen leaves.
Poetry speaks in silence all alone.
Poetry sows mysterious words
In the hearts of men
And plays with the moon, the stars and the clouds 
From the hearts of the hills
It brings 
Sadness locked in the lonely hearts.
Poetry steals the songs of the birds and clamoring of animals. 
From the treasury of forests
Uninhabited by man.
Poetry makes a home
In breathing of each man.
It brings hope and sunshine 
To one who rehearses destruction of life
Getting tired swimming in the river of sorrows. 
Poetry sprouts up 
From the warm heart of the poet and thrives. 
Poetry is a carpet 
Of selected words of emotion 
Of love and  dejection 
It peeps into the saddened hearts
And changes clothes.
Sometimes it wears all black
And at other times it wears
Flamboyant garments of light.
Poetry builds a golden bridge 
From one man's heart to another.

Translated by Ananda Bormudoi

Hemaprova Moran is an Assamese poet and writer based in Kakopathar, Tinsukia.

Click here to read the original Assamese poems.