A garland of kundo

Once again

 I wear my mayek naibi, 

 My muga phi the colour of adorgulap

 Inland with gold it seems,

Trace chandon on my forehead

 Lik, khuji find their familiar places,

 My neck, my arms,

 The finality of sana on skin

Another wedding,

 When they ask me, 

I say absolutely not, 

Atleast not for another six-seven years

 But that is just half a truth

You, a stranger to my land, 

A valley surrounded by nine hill ranges

 Shrouded by mists and myths

 You would think time had stood still

 A little longer than in other places

You,who never heard Khamba-Thoibi stories

 While growing up

On you, my beloved stranger

 I would place around your neck

A garland of kundo.