Mica Poem by Prayag Saikia

Without the sun
The language of mica evades comprehension

Shaking the pen of memories
On the sand-banks of life
When the soul screams aloud
Time says
Be a monk and beg for the sun

The sun's bestowal
Lights the lamp
Light gets tight to the mind

At the summit ice melts
The solidified ice of the heart

With the river spate tearing the dykes asunder
Comes the news of the arriving sun

Lots of writings left on mica
Glitter

(Translated from Original Assamese by Krishna Dulal Barua)