(From the Bengali of Devendranath Sen)
METHINKS, MY love, before the daybreak of life you stood under some waterfall of happy dreams, filling your blood with its liquid turbulence. Or, perhaps, your path was through the garden of the gods, where the merry multitude of jasmine, lilies, and oleanders fell in your arms in heaps, and entering your heart became boisterous.
Your laughter is a song whose words are drowned in the clamour of tune, a rapture of odour of flowers that are not seen; it is like the moonlight breaking through your lips' window when the moon is hiding in your heart. I ask for no reason, I forget the cause, I only know that your laughter is the tumult of insurgent life.

YOU CAME TO my door in the dawn and sang; it angered me to be awakened from sleep, and you went away unheeded.
You came in the noon and asked for water; it vexed me in my work, and you were sent away with reproaches.
You came in the evening with your flaming torches.
You seemed to me like a terror and I shut my door.
Now in the midnight I sit alone in my lampless room and call you back whom I turned away in insult.

প্রাণের সাধন কবে নিবেদন
               করেছি চরণতলে,
অভিষেক তার হল না তোমার
               করুণ নয়নজলে।
     রসের বাদল নামিল না কেন
               তাপের দিনে।
     ঝরে গেল ফুল, মালা পরাই নি
               তোমার গলে।
     মনে হয়েছিল, দেখেছি করুণা
               আঁখির পাতে--
উড়ে গেল কোথা শুকানো যূথীর সাথে।
যদি এ মাটিতে চলিতে চলিতে
     পড়িত তোমার দান
          এ মাটি লভিত প্রাণ,
একদা গোপনে ফিরে পেতে তারে
          অমৃত ফলে।