Wisdom is not here today
To repose in the shadows of the banyan tree
The yacht of savour
Is not there
To anchor by the riverside
Grandpa (!) , We are brats
We have lost the insuppressible thirst
Of listening to folktales
Torrid time
Dusty autumn
Clotted blood is stuck on the streets
When the terminal point of the earth's field
will be reached
In the geography of fencing
Will men find
A grain
Resembling a goose-egg
As in the stories of Tolstoy
Come as a sprightly youth sans spectacles
Give us lessons of savour
One says
Lifespan increases with savour
Even the heartless sheds
Tears of repentance
(Translated from Original Assamese by Bibekananda Choudhury)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem