Oh, what an unbearably beautiful night, spreading warmth and heat!
My mind is excited (the mind with which I play)
As if a dazzling snake...
Golden is whose colour, the cruel emotion of death is whose eyes.
(How did this dream come true in our barren creation?)
I feel the unbearable happiness of freedom
In my being, in my consciousness; the uncontainable rhythm of life
In a serpentine motion, floating in the river of night’s darkness
Frantic, cyclonic, unbarred.
Like a lunatic, I adore this blood-bath darkness of the night
The way I love the mind, like tar the colour of whose body, a prostitute
In the forest of dreams, roams a dazzling golden snake
Surrounding it the golden silence, unbearable wonder and heat
Darkness and darkness.
I adore, like the night, fascinating, a snake, and its surprised pride,
Like tar the colour of whose body, a prostitute
Like a melting heart, this togetherness of death and beauty.
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Comments about this poem (The Snake by Homen Borgohain )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edna St. Vincent Millay
(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950)
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