My Gossamer Night.

(Translated form the original Assamese, Bimurta mur nishati by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika.)


Gossamer, this my night
Woven from threads of silence-
One blue sador;
In one of its honeyed folds
The warmth of breath
And living love-
One blue sador.

Passion’s blood red
In this night’s deep womb
And silent love’s torrents
Of many many monsoons;
In one of its honeyed folds,
The breath of warmth
And living love.

Falls down an expected
A muffled reverberation
Of a loving voice
Her loving voice.
Boundless is the restlessness
Of two dewy lips
Two quivering lips.

This, the rule for felling rules
On this law-craving path.
Tender thrusts and thrusts returned
On the blue night’s stage.

From the banks
Of distant rivers of screams-
Cries.
Yet, carelessly I sink
Into this sea
Of caresses.
In one of its honeyed folds,
The warmth of breath
And living living love.

(First published in Quills 20009, the annual journal of the Department of English, B. Borooah College.)