The one who knows, knows, that time and space are one
We, the ones who are unaware, divide it at our convenience
Hearing my grave voice (much like that of a college lecturer)
My wife smiles at me, with a touch of irony
Anything goes
How does it matter
Maybe so
Maybe not
For, I know the rock-mounting hill-climber
On a self-quest, he’ll warm his hands tomorrow in the morning sun
***
(Translated from Assamese by Prof. Bibhash Choudhury)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem