To See You Changed

My heart bleeds
To see you changed.
I screamed loudly and cried.
You are no longer the person
I searched for.
You changed,
Along with
The river Saidra and Longtoraihill,
They are no longer the same.
You no longer come to the HUK
You don’t sing Jadu-kolija any more
After the dawn.
I searched you everywhere
And spent the whole evening.
In my effort to halt your change
I never realized my own changes.
Stream Without a Name
Stream without a name
Who knows from where it came,

And where it will go.

Here it is deep to the bottom
And somewhere it is dried up.

Stream without a name
Got so many stories to tell
Hidden below the stone and sand.
What was she called before
Why is she nameless?
Who knows!

Up from the hills she came
I heard the villagers say.
But where will she go?
Who knows weather she flows
Or gets disappeared in the next village.


Slowly slowly I shed my skin
Slowly slowly I forget my words
Quietly I am lost.

Some part of me resembles you
The rest is someone else.
I am no longer me,
Still my roots can be traced.

The mighty river is dead now.
Will it ever rain?
Once a forest here in these hills
is lost just like me.
And those who remain
Keep counting today, tomorrow and so on.
Roots below the ground
Scream with anxiety!


While writing a poem
I fell asleep, after that

I couldn’t write at all.
While dreaming a dream
Suddenly I woke up
With an unfinished dream.
When I was drowned
In your love, you left
Without a trace and
I couldn’t love you anymore.
The half written poem,
Unfinished dream and
The incomplete love
are what make my story.
The half written poem is
Hidden inside my heart
The unfinished dream
is scattered in the sky
And the love

That I couldn’t give you
has turned into moonlight
In the darkest of night.


Suddenly the clouds disappeared
and the sky became brighter,
looks like you will come today.
We haven’t met for long,
the chethuangtree is sky high
now In search of you,
and the water in the river
dried up waiting.
The roads that awaits you
has been wedded.
The dukmali flower
never blossomed again.
Days were long and deserted
and nights were horrible
filled with nightmares.
Looks like you will come today
Daylight is kissing me
through the window.

Lincoln Murasingh är Kokborok poet och
författare från Tripura, Indien.