These days I keep forgetting about trees very often
When Alexander comes to my mind
I forget about the entity of olive trees
Or about
The tree of knowledge
When the sensation of the Buddha is most profound
In the non-presence of trees
All my thoughts appear incomplete
As if I were Tughlaq rushing from Delhi to Devagiri
As if I were Carvante's Quixote
So friend, if you can, provide me at the opportune hour
With a little shade that would remind me of trees
Or else, who can tell where this rider's horse
Runs out of breath
In his battle of existence
(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