On monsoon nights does your poet come to your mind,
Arundhoti,
The fragrance of the afternoon in your hair-knot
Effaced by the damp light
Does it, does it come to your mind,
Arundhoti?
Poetry obscure to the moonlight, clouds, affection, … [Read the rest...] “Does it Come to Your Mind, Arundhoti – by Navakanta Barooah (trans.)”