I respect thee
With fear and honor!
Please don’t tell my words to anyone
Which I genuinely said you are beautiful!
Passionate was I in the moonlit night,
In the hills, flowers, trees, in women;
Today it is not that story
The colors of the Sari:
Makes me to stare, mesmerized me
For all time I want to set my eyes on thee
Thy colors of Sari
I saw thee in the dim tube light
During the night and in the twilight
Adorned with different colors of Sari
As we were guided a little
Not on Sunday but on other days
Like the most scented flowers
From Monday to Saturday
Like thabal of late night (moonlight)
Your sari
Tells me a story
Don’t know whether you narrate it to others...
The day you were embellished with chandan color Sari
Coming from the temple
Like a pious Hindu lady
I saw you quite decent
But no:
You must have gone to the Church
I would like to ask a question to my mother
For why there is not a sister for me
I would have seen them wearing the sari
Like you quite modest and fairy
As there was none I am not able to see anyone...
If you have given me the assent
Let me to utter repeatedly
Which I said your are beautiful
Along with thy colors of sari
I could have seen you everyday
If I were able to live 1095 days
Not on Sunday but on other days
With new sari of yours
But don’t know for this concluding
Shadowy life’s journey...
Without any ornamentation
Every day you were looking fairy
Adorned cautiously only with that sari
Like the red rose petals that had not fallen ever
Of early winter morning
Wet with the dew drops
Once I’ve seen
Painted with mahendi on thy palm
But never seen twice...
At times you dressed up with attires of little girls
And I saw you talking and laughing
On the side where I was not there
I wanted to chat with you like a friend
In a manner which I feel like a child
But I didn’t say:
Because I always remember
Who am I and where I am
I never forget such questions...
Rain of the rainy season, twilight of the winter,
Night of the summer, the day of the New Year,
The season of autumn, the journey of spring season
Full moon and new moon:
Repeatedly they will come
When their turn comes...
My past and passing days of three years
Won’t come again and again like theirs...
End await for me,
This story also will come to an end
This stare also will perish:
Thy new colors of sari too
Left only with remembrance on me
Like twilight it will become darker one day
The day 1095 days end...
I who is fond of black color
Await the day
You adorn with black color sari
Again I plea to thee
With fear and honor
Please don’t tell my words to anyone
Which I genuinely said you are beautiful!
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Translated by : Amarjit Tongbram
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1095 days is d most precious day to become a great person. during three yrs we had hav seen a varieties of sarees in diff. colours in d form of future. we have to utilize it n try to get an ascent from it, she is alys ready to giv. i would say 1095 days is d day only to become a great person bt another 730 days is their to b a great person,.. here u may seen a varieties of new sarees again where c can giv u brighter as like as thabal of late night.
ReplyDeletebheiyagi poem se yamna fajei.. bheiyagi matung enna eina mean twjarise chanaba watpra yengbiu...