(From the Bengali of Satyendranath Datta) MY FLOWERS were like milk and honey and wine; I bound them into a posy with a golden ribbon, but they escaped my watchful care and fled away and only the ribbon remains. My songs were like milk and honey and wine, they were held in the rhythm of my beating heart, but they spread their wings and fled away, the darlings of the idle hours, and my heart beats in silence. The beauty I loved was like milk and honey and wine, her lips like the rose of the dawn, her eyes bee-black. I kept my heart silent lest it should startle her, but she eluded me like my flowers and like my songs, and my love remains alone.
জীবন আমার যে অমৃত আপন-মাঝে গোপন রাখে প্রতিদিনের আড়াল ভেঙে কবে আমি দেখব তাকে। তাহারি স্বাদ ক্ষণে ক্ষণে পেয়েছি তো আপন মনে, গন্ধ তারি মাঝে মাঝে উদাস ক'রে আমায় ডাকে। নানা রঙের ছায়ায় বোনা এই আলোকের অন্তরালে আনন্দরূপ লুকিয়ে আছে দেখব না কি যাবার কালে। যে নিরালায় তোমার দৃষ্টি আপনি দেখে আপন সৃষ্টি সেইখানে কি বারেক আমায় দাঁড় করাবে সবার ফাঁকে।
WHO IS THIS captive that grieves within thee thirsting for light? His lute is silent, though life's breath is abroad in the air; His eyes do not see, though morning lights the sky. Birds sing of a new awakening to the forest, the joy of new life breaks out in the tints of flowers, the night beyond the wall has vanished, yet the smoking lamp is still burning in the cell. Alas, why is there this separation between thy home and the sky?
