Wednesday, September 27, 2006

The World is My Poem

Hiren Bhattacharya
Translated from original Asomiya
By Dibyajyoti Sarma

Pen is my hammer of the smith, breaking
Beating, I create words
Sharp like a farmer’s plough, golden Sita in the furrow
Edged like a carpenter’s blade
Cracking the fibre of hard wood, I fetch
Blood-daubed words of experience, like the arrows of a tribal youth’s bow
Piercing is my each word
Grows expansive in blood-flesh-desire
Some of them are egoist like hills
Others docile like rivers and yet others, sombre like lakes
Do not obey anybody’s order

Drawn on ocean-rive-mountain,
I’m the poet of a vast continent

The world is my poem

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