For days I have heard
only one sound
day and night.
The burning tyre is stinking.

I have shed tears
And wiped them away
with one hand
with both hands.

In my tears
the stones have soaked,
the grass drenched in blood over there
has soaked in my tears.

The overblown surujkanti flowers have not
wilted though they are about to,
the Dichoi and Dibong have not
changed into ice though they are about to.

For days the moon has not
risen over Diroi Rangali.

You, with the wet lock of hair,
might have lit the earthen lamp
shedding bitter tears.

The burning of tyre is smelling still
I have heard that same sound again.

Will the sun appear
red or black
at tomorrow's dawn?
you too do not know.