Pages

Monday, November 06, 2006

Mine and the world’s

Hiren Bhattacharya
Translated from original Asomiya
By Dibyajyoti Sarma

5.

I exist this way: grief is my child, have to
Hold it in both hands every time. On the tongue is the salt of sadness,
Barfs rice gruel! Can’t get angry easily
Like a responsible father I know
How to control my anger
And what is forgiveness. I have grave responsibility
The onerous responsibility to rear my grieves into success
Drenched in solitude is my sick body
At an attempt to say something from the pharynx
Spreads blood inside and out of the face

7.

Comrade, the heart aches, let the gun warm my heart
Don’t remove it; keep my middle finger
On the trigger: let incessant thunder surge from the gun point
What to fear once the night passes?
Together we’ll reach the open fields of Beltola.

2 comments:

  1. Well, I say wow,

    "The onerous responsibility to rear my grieves into success"

    How old is this work? I have very little knowledge about Asamese work.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Well, I say wow,

    "The onerous responsibility to rear my grieves into success"

    How old is this work? I have very little knowledge about Asamese work.

    ReplyDelete