NOT FOR ME is the love that knows no restraint, but like the foaming wine that having burst its vessel in a moment would run to waste.
Send me the love which is cool and pure like your rain that blesses the thirsty earth and fills the homely earthen jars.
Send me the love that would soak down into the centre of being, and from there would spread like the unseen sap through the branching tree of life, giving birth to fruits and flowers.
Send me the love that keeps the heart still with the fulness of peace.

THE EVENING stood bewildered among street lamps, its gold tarnished by the city dust.
        A woman, gaudily decked and painted, leant over the rail of her balcony, a living fire waiting for its moths.
        Suddenly an eddy was formed in the road round a street-boy crushed under the wheels of a carriage, and the woman on the balcony fell to the floor screaming in agony, stricken with the grief of the great white-robed Mother who sits in the world's inner shrine.

সখার কাছেতে প্রেম
      চান ভগবান,
দাসের কাছেতে নতি
      চাহে শয়তান।