Brahmaputra wakes up slow,
Misty hills in softest glow,
Umananda floats alone,
Crowned in green, a quiet throne.
Rain on the tea leaves shine,
Bamboo whispers, tall and fine,
Wind comes down from Shillong way,
Bringing clouds to end the day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem