Thursday, 9 October 2008

An Arakanese Poem of the 16th century (10)


Poem by :Okker Pyun

This is a cold winter than last year,
Abright sun,but a north wind,and a mist
In the mornings like a blanket of wooly cotton;
And though I settle cloth screens round my shiver.
If only you were back with me again,
Wearing the gold chain I rememder well!
I can exactly see you as you looked
The morning when you left me and set out,
Your eye as large and liqud as s planet,
But in your air something obscure and lofty.
There is a region where sun never shines,
The icy valleys of the Himavanta;
The lake Anawdatta there overflows
The rock Tilangana the nount Trisana:
From those strange mountain places winds are blowing,
That wreak their cold on me and writing my heart
With longing for your safe and quick return.

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