A man came into a ramshackle cottage.
He was like a darkness
A hushed night was ascribed on his face
There was red bag hanging from his shoulder
The man offered me my identity card
Which he pulled out from the bag
He said weeping
Hiding his face in the dense forest,—
“The weeping is also an art”
An art behind the art.
Original Assamese poem Translated by Pabitra Das.