(Written to Miss Christine Greenstidel from Paris, 14th August 1900.)
If things go ill or well —
If joy rebounding spreads the face,
Or sea of sorrow swells —
A play — we each have part,
Each one to weep or laugh as may;
Each one his dress to don —
Its scenes, alternative shine and rain.
Thou dream, O blessed dream!
Spread far and near thy veil of haze,
Tone down the lines so sharp,
Make smooth what roughness seems.
No magic but in thee!
Thy touch makes desert bloom to life.
Harsh thunder, sweetest song,
Fell death, the sweet release.
Lada kiei kiei ki ïaid sniew ne bha —
Lada ka jingkmen ka pashat bad pynphriang ia ka durkhmat,
Lane ka duriaw jong ka jingsngewsih ka phaloh ïa ki dew—
Ka sawangka—ha kaba iwei pa iwei na ngi, ngi don ka bynta,
Uwei pa uwei ban ïam ne ban rkhie katba jia;
Uwei pa uwei uban riam katkum ka rukom ka riti —
Ki jingjia jong ka, ka phyrnai shai ryngkat u slap.
To phohsniew, ko jingphohsniew ba la kyrkhu!
Pynphriang jngai bad hajan ka jingtap kaba byrngut jong pha,
Pynjai jai ïa ka sur da ki laiñ kiba jem bad nep,
Pynlong jem ïa ka jingpaw jong ka khohrum khoram.
Ym don jingleh jadu hynrei ha pha keiñ!
Ka jingktah jong pha ka pynlong ïa ka ri shyiap ban phuh sha ka jingim.
Ka jingsawa jong u ‘erlangthari ba jur, ka jingrwai kaba sngewtynnat tam,
Ka jingïap bashyrkhei, ka jingsieng ïewbih thiang.
-La pynkylla da I Rangkitbok C Dohkrud, Shillong
