A Fistful Of Mustard Poem by Prayag Saikia

Mustard is blooming everywhere
But
The heart is not filled up
By the yellow
Overflowing the field

With foggy eyes
I venture out
For a fistful of mustard
To ignite a yellow flame

The donor is to be
A houseowner
Whose account of loss is zero

Where shall I get
My beloved Sonda*
That you are now assimilated
With Tathagata in slumber
And
I am very helpless

(Translated from Original Assamese by Bibekananda Choudhury)