My Manipur

Surjeet Aribam
They say, it is a land of jewels,
They say, it is a land of plenty,
They say, rings of hills fence its borders

With hill people standing on sentry-
A sweet refrain about my state.
With a valley resting in the middle

And in it an inland lake which mirrors
The hills nearby in its still waters,
The state is a habitation of beauty.

But, sadly, with an ominous storm
Raging in the state, the sweet refrain
Is threatened to be blown away

Into the vagueness of misty past.
With the naked dance of violence
Belching smoke of burning houses,

And revolting smell of putrid flesh
Chocking, nasty and the undressing
Of the green clothing over the hills

By the rapacious narco terrorists,
Now, beauty, unable to endure all this,
Is about to leave the state tearfully.