Theatre Hall Poem by Pradip Saikia

The dead babies will start sounding at one's touch
The nameless mothers will wake up with a start
No one touches anyone in this theatre hall
Do not quench the thirst of the mask
With a barrelful of light

A deeply sleeping violin
A little father away from the half burnt candles
A silent clock on a tranquil wall
The butterfly of a flock of spotted corkwood
Reminiscent calendar
A hungry lizard poking at the ashtray

A red lamp in the juncture of dark-blue night
Accursed Ibsen
Samuel's speechless drama
A pair of face to face indecent skeletons facing each other
Playing cards in between their fingers
King Queen Jack

The glass will break up at one's touch
Cup plates
The ancient king will jump
Danseuse top

Don't touch the doleful dolls
Don't touch
Here no one touches no one
Till he arrives

# Translated from Assamese to English by: Bibekananda Chowdhury