My house and my mill-

the two poles for my bullock in me

to move around,

feel good to crush the oil out

to fuel the woven and the machines-

significant for my sun and moon to rise .

My moon and my wife-

the two poems for my restricted poet,

waiting in me

to cross over the line of control

drawn on the floor of my heart

by my earthly  materialistic wisdom,

to dignify their beauty

when I find myself alone on the roof

and in the bed.

My children and my goodness

the two plants

germinated together

on my fertile land

to grow and grow up to my heaven,

outstretching their hands to touch

the blessings of the God

to sweep the badness out of my smiling heart

assuming it a foundation stone in building a happy world.

                                                                               ~Pijush Kanti Deb

                                                                                    Nogaon, Assam, India