(Translated from the original Assamese, Jiyon ghorir pratitu pal by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika)
As if every moment of life’s clock
Has melted away
Only an ant of loneliness
Stagnates on it.
Wonder why
Blood has become bereft of cells.
I am left
With a cluster of
Pestering germs.
Disharmonic rhythm, hollow melody
Chaos in this concert of my memories
As if days have turned into
The homeless gulls of sea shores.
And light
Has got lost
In the horizon of darkness.
(First published in Quills 20009, the annual journal of the Department of English, B. Borooah College.)
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