IT WAS GROWING dark when I asked her, 'What strange land have I come to?'
        She only lowered her eyes, and the water gurgled in thethroat of her jar, as she walked away.
        The trees hang vaguely over the bank, and the land appears as though it already belonged to the past.
        The water is dumb, the bamboos are darkly still, a wristlet tinkles against the water-jar from down the lane.
Row no more, but fasten the boat to this tree,-for I love the look of this land.
        The evening star goes down behind the temple dome, and the pallor of the marble landing haunts the dark water.
        Belated wayfarers sigh; for light from hidden windows is splintered into the darkness by intervening wayside trees and bushes. Still that wristlet tinkles against the water-jar, and retreating steps rustle from down the lane littered with leaves.
        The night deepens, the palace towers loom spectre-like, and the town hums wearily.
        Row no more, but fasten the boat to a tree.
Let me seek rest in this strange land, dimly lying under the stars, where darkness tingles with the tinkle of a wristlet knocking against a water-jar.

WHERE IS heaven? you ask me, my child,- the sages tell us it is beyond the limits of birth and death, unswayed by the rhythm of day and night; it is not of this earth.
But your poet knows that its eternal hunger is for time and space, and it strives evermore lo be born in the fruitful dust. Heaven is fulfilled in your sweet body, my child, in your palpitating heart
The sea is beating its drums in joy, the flowers are a-tiptoe to kiss you. For heaven is born in you, in the arms of the mother-dust.

গন্ধ চলে যায়, হায়, বন্ধ নাহি থাকে,
ফুল তারে মাথা নাড়ি ফিরে ফিরে ডাকে।
বায়ু বলে, যাহা গেল সেই গন্ধ তব,
যেটুকু না দিবে তারে গন্ধ নাহি কব।