Beyond the Curve of a Smile
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Laishram Malemnganba Meitei
Divine providence bestows individualized blessings,
An inescapable presence, ever with us.
The enchanting smile, an ornament of our souls.
The tears streaming down our faces:
Could it be because we fail to embellish our own beauty?
Is there anyone in this world
Who neither desires a beautiful life
Nor a good one?
Even the peaceful full moonlight,
Which brightens the earth,
Has its own dark counterpart,
That cloaks the world in shadow.
Ought we to harbor anger toward them
For neglecting to adorn their own beauty?
Is it still fair to gaze solely upon the allure of the new moonlight?
Is it just to focus solely on our frailties:
We who are always embellishing beauty with a smile?
Yes, it is the tears of mortals,
Of a turbulent mind fraught with agitation,
Of carrying smoldering ashes within ourselves.
Tears streaming from our eyes, influenced and revealed by all these factors,
Released by our fervent spirits.
Yes, it is still the tears: bright and shimmering, streaming from our eyes—
That answer the unanswered questions of our hearts’ most pondered inquiries.
The bright, glistening tears of ours,
Streaming from our eyes.
Cleansing the dirt of our hidden sorrows,
And releasing them as tears.
Yes, it is the pure tears:
Our tears.
The precious tears carry concealed sentiments,
Of the inability to articulate to anyone,
Of repressed feelings.
Emotions that failed to be borne,
And streaming from the eyes, answering the unanswered questions
And purging the woes.
The tears.
Divine providence bestows individualized blessings,
An inescapable presence, ever with us.
The enchanting smile, an ornament of our souls.
The tears streaming down our faces:
Could it be because we fail to embellish our own beauty?
Is there anyone in this world
Who neither desires a beautiful life
Nor a good one?
Even the peaceful full moonlight,
Which brightens the earth,
Has its own dark counterpart,
That cloaks the world in shadow.
Ought we to harbor anger toward them
For neglecting to adorn their own beauty?
Is it still fair to gaze solely upon the allure of the new moonlight?
Is it just to focus solely on our frailties:
We who are always embellishing beauty with a smile?
Yes, it is the tears of mortals,
Of a turbulent mind fraught with agitation,
Of carrying smoldering ashes within ourselves.
Tears streaming from our eyes, influenced and revealed by all these factors,
Released by our fervent spirits.
Yes, it is still the tears: bright and shimmering, streaming from our eyes—
That answer the unanswered questions of our hearts’ most pondered inquiries.
The bright, glistening tears of ours,
Streaming from our eyes.
Cleansing the dirt of our hidden sorrows,
And releasing them as tears.
Yes, it is the pure tears:
Our tears.
The precious tears carry concealed sentiments,
Of the inability to articulate to anyone,
Of repressed feelings.
Emotions that failed to be borne,
And streaming from the eyes, answering the unanswered questions
And purging the woes.
The tears.