Raising shrines of courage
I was moving on and on
Then you came
I turned fragile
I hadn't known
That granite could melt as ice
I penned in my diary-
As towards the archaic sun
Nearing me is a nebula
Only I amn't aware
If it leaves
Or remains.
(Translated from Original Assamese by Krishna Dulal Barua)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem