The World Is My Poem

Pen is my hammer of the smith, breaking
Beating, I create words
Sharp like a farmer's plugh, golden Sita in the furrow

Edged like a carpenter's blade
Cracking the fibre of hard wood I fetch
Blooddaubed words of experience, like a tribal youth's bow

Piercing is my each word
Grows expansive in blood-flesh-desire
Some of them are egoist like hills
Other docile like rivers and yet others sombre like lakes
Do not obey anybody's order

Drawn in ocean-rivemountain, I'm the poet of the vast continent
The world is my poem

- Hiren Bhattacharya

Translated from Assamese by Dibyajoti Sarma