When and How he came to me I don't know
His name is Nilim Kumar
So desperately he asked me
For my hands
For my lips
That
I gave him my hands
And my lips
He writes verses, he embraces fire
With those hands
He kisses and whispers melodies
With those lips
He stares at people
He wants to hug them, he wants to kiss them
He is human
He practices all the good and bad habits of mankind
He practices all the lights and darks of human
He looks for a man in a man
A woman in a woman
He looks for the natural color of the world
He is stubborn, proud
Angry,doesn't follow the rules
Extremely sensitive
In love with torments
He leads an obnoxious life
His heart is Badly bruised
Outcome of the love he carries
He often leaves me alone
To the houses, the yards of people
The shops the markets
The villages the towns he roams around
As if he is an exiled burnt out soul
He comes to me when he is hungry
He comes to me when he is thirsty
Unable to bear the pain of that wound is his bosom
He comes to me
I have to feed him
I have to make him drink
I make him dress and
I sooth him to sleep in he bed of my heart
In return of that
He pens down verses of my life
Rather he writes about his life itself
But whatever he writes about are stories of my life
When and how he came to me I have no clue
He has now come to you
He wants to hold your hands
Along with his own
To make his lips touch yours
Look how desperately stands in front of you
He is Nilim Kumar
(Translated from an Assamese poem of the same name by Nilim Kumar)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment