Now in this land
One cannot speak aloud
One cannot think openly
So poem,
Like a flower I sport with you.
Before my eyes, incident upon incident,
Awesome, trembling
Walking yet sleeping
Eyes open but dreaming
Standing yet seeing nightmares
in dreams in reality
Only fearsome shivering instances
So around me closing eyes
Palms on ears
Moulding the heart to a mere thing of clay
I write poems about flowers.
Now in this land
One should only think of flowers
Dream of flowers
For my small baby, my wife
For my job
To protect myself from harm.
Translated from the Manipuri by Robin Ngangom