If you could speak at least, it would have been better.
Only because of your dumbness, you’re suffering like this.
You’ve a very haughty manner.
You’re the one, I’m most angry with.
When spoken, you never respond.
When called, you never listen.
Even when you’ve seen me, you never care to look.
When I move, you never follow me.
In the forest, you must be living,
Who would believe that?
You’re the one I called, isn’t it?
What I heard was my own voice, isn’t it?
Amidst the hills,
In the forest,
I shouted, I called, I spoke
Again and again, I beckoned
You, dumb one
Knowing fully well, you won’t answer me.
There must be something you want to speak about,
In your lips.
Overflowing must be what you want to express,
In your heart.
For how long, you’re asking to keep waiting
To me, accustomed to waiting all these while,
With your words,
With your smiles?
The flight of white doves in the sky,
You never stop watching even for a moment, with your neck held up.
The hill, once very high, has become shorter.
The green hill has become barren.
The stream, flowing down, has turned muddy.
The images seen before me have become duller.
Who else would like to be ‘Echo’?
In the modern times, in the present day,
At this time, at this moment,
Every the call,
Even the reply
Has manifested as you, only you,
It is you, only you.
---Written By Saratchand Thiyam and translated by T Bijoykumar Singh
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