Prem Narayan Nath
With whom did you come all the way
as the yellow of mustard blossoms
does the drum beat in your bosom
do you dip in your heart to paint?
does the river surge in your eyes
or trickle down lean as sorrow?
Does spring fall
fall the blossoming jasmine?
Does the lisping crane
peck at your heart?
does your river overflow with love
or purl quietly on?
Translated by Pradip Acharjya
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