Phagun* Poem by Kushal Dutta

Quiet and forlorn

The fragrant yellow mustard pollens
Spread in the air of the noonday flute

Frenzied in the fragrance
A school of colourful fish
Through twigs and leaves
Of straight slender trees
Trample over the flowering mustard patch
Like a lightning strike

Yet phagun knows
The charm of flowering

On a still quiet night
At the edge of the moonlit heath Winged angels flit to and fro

As their wings flap
the fallen mustard blossoms
begin to breathe
***
*Phagun: Early Spring
(Translated from Assamese by Prof. Pradip Acharya)