On the Path of the Sun The sun comes riding a white horse Illuminating black stones in the dark Brightening dews on grass blades And making its path all a dream. It enlivens reeds and rhododendrons on its path. It carries in its heart The damp happiness of the clouds. In the moonlit nights The fireflies stay awake Waiting for the daybreak. They murmur seven tunes They are for the sun; aren't they? Oh yes, the sun is always on a hurry It takes a rest When the moonlight is awake It begins a long journey at dawn. It is committed to the earth To the rivers and tracts of sand The huts and mansions And peak of the mountains. The ducks and the herons The poor creatures on the grazing grounds The trees and creepers All need sunshine And the sun will give it to them all.
In the Rhythm of a Poem The soul wails in blood Dropping like rain. In sweat, blood and tears A poem groans. The silent cries swallowed by darkness Doze off when rain consoles. One who gets tired Basks in the morning sunshine. Is it the worth of a poem? The hands and feet of a poem are bound during the day. The sky hangs far above, the river remains dumb And the stallion of imagination gets tired. The poet's spontaneity is shattered and held in check. And yet the poet works Day and night to create a thousand tales... Are poems born at midnight? The breast of a poem gets silted... The words are swimming upstream Like climbing fishes Up against the stream In the dark river Like a shoal of cheerful small fish.
Translated by Ananda Bormudoi
Rekha Borkotoky is a contemporary Assamese poet based in Jorhat, Assam. She has three collections of poems to her credit.