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.
Copyright © Kuldip Medhi | Year Posted 2019
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