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:: Assamese Poetry in Translations | Indian Literature | Poems from Assam, the North-East of India.
Such a rich assemblage of hair on my two arms,
The hide and seek of the moon, as though your face.
What a concealed thrill.
Your body is a flowing stream
Where the waves rise and sink.
I am Krishna.… [Read the rest...] “Krishna-Radha | Saidqul Islam”
All the blossoms of the night
Have flowered
Noiselessly
Crossing the river
The moon accompanies me
To the yellow mustard-seed-bed of your dreams…
Indian Literature | Translator Profile | Pallavi Das is presently working as a research scholar at
When you sing
Leaning her face against my breast
Overwhelmed she starts weeping
Her distressing sobs
Leave frightfully
My heart empty
I shut off my eyes,
Drizzling down the leaking roof
The rain to the earth descends
A droplet I … [Read the rest...] “When You Sing | Pranjit Bora”
All over my body
rolls along the afternoon sun.
First in my chest;
And then in every atom
I felt that gruesome pain.
Of love, desolation or maybe of plain sarcasm.
Drop by drop it dripped in my chest,
And … [Read the rest...] “Afternoon Sun | Hiren Bhattacharyya”
A moon’s serpent slowly creeps upstream
Thoughts become boats and shuttle between the banks
On the nights of listening to tales
You’d swelled up as Champavati
‘I swear I haven’t trodden upon anyone’s shadow
Without beholding you I haven’t beheld … [Read the rest...] “As a moon’s serpent | Hiren Bhattacharyya”
The mist-coated clouds floated as a river
Upon the bosoms of hills
From the long lines of pines
The winds drifted in
The cicadas’ sound quivered
My outers and inners, body and mind
What thoughts were swinging in your eyes… [Read the rest...] “Shillong – March 7, 2006”
Quit your slumber Kamalapati, wake up, it’s dawn
Rise Govinda, let me behold your moonlike face
The eastern horizon is softly glowing alive
Sunlight emerges piercing the fading darkness
The lotus blooms with bees hovering around
The curd-churning women of … [Read the rest...] “Tejore Kamalapati (a Borgeet by Madhavdeva) : trans by Krishna Dulal Barua”
Tonight again these tiny quiet neem flowers
Your breath is turning white
Your entire body is turning white
And a fragile white virgin night
Is running around your first monsoon tresses
So thick, noiseless—for whom are you waiting like this … [Read the rest...] “Tonight | Dr. Pranjit Bora (trans: Anuradha Gohain )”