Last Word By Kuldip Medhi

Met her first Where The meadow stopped Behind the mountains Benched on the buffalo's back A cowherd Played a riverine tune Where The bow-shaped river Flowed north The white yachts Were sailing east Like the shadow of A flight of cranes on water Where At the market near the river Away from the crowd She clutched herself To keep selling tears Folks haggled And gladly bought The pearl-like tears It was then I asked her The reason for such discounted sale She accounted - A tree's tears have no value Only to be burnt to ashes A seedling grows into a matured tree. Translated by Prof. Anita Baruwa from the original "Xeh Kotha" in Assamese.