কল্যাণীয় শ্রীমান অসিতকুমার হালদার
    
     আমার মূর্তি পূর্ণ করি
         মুক্তি পেল' তোমার শক্তি,
     রেখায় রেখায় নিত্য শিখায়
         দীপ্তি পেল তোমার ভক্তি।
     চক্ষে তোমার প্রাণের মন্ত্র,
         তাই তো তোমার ধ্যানের দৃষ্টি
     তোমার রসে আমার রূপে
         রচিল এই নূতন সৃষ্টি।

WHEN, MAD IN their mirth, they raised dust to soil thy robe, 0 Beautiful, it made my heart sick.
I cried to thee and said, 'Take thy rod of punishment and judge them.'
The morning light struck upon those eyes, red with the revel of night; the place of the white lily greeted their burning breath; the stars through the depth of the sacred dark stared at their carousing-at those that raised dust to soil thy robe, 0 Beautiful!
Thy judgment seat was in the flower garden, in the birds' notes in springtime: in the shady river-banks, where the trees muttered in answer to the muttering of the waves.
0 my Lover, they were pitiless in their passion.
They prowled in the dark to snatch thy ornaments to deck their own desires.
When they had struck thee and thou wert pained, it pierced me to the quick, and I cried to thee and said. Take thy sword, 0 my Lover, and judge them!'
Ah, but thy justice was vigilant.
A mother's tears were shed on their insolence; the imperishable faith of a lover hid their spears of rebellion in its own wounds.
Thy judgment was in the mute pain of sleepless love: in the blush of the chaste: in the tears of the night of the desolate: in the pale morning- light of forgiveness.
0 Terrible, they in their reckless greed climbed thy gate at night, breaking into thy storehouse to rob thee.
But the weight of their plunder grew immense, too heavy to carry or to remove.
Thereupon I cried to thee and said. Forgive them, 0 Terrible!
Thy forgiveness burst in storms, throwing them down, scattering their thefts in the dust.
Thy forgiveness was in the thunder-stone; in the shower of blood; in the angry red of the sunset

IF BABY ONLY wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment.
It is not for nothing that he does not leave us.
He loves to rest his head on mother's bosom, and cannot ever bear
to lose sight of her.
Baby knows all manner of wise words, though few on earth can understand their meaning.
It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak.
The one thing he wants is to learn mother's words from mother's lips.
That is why he looks so innocent.
Baby had a heap of gold and pearls, yet he came like a beggar on to this earth.
It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise.
This dear little naked mendicant pretends to be utterly helpless, so that he may beg for mother's wealth of love.
Baby was so free from every tie in the land of the tiny crescent moon.
It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom.
He knows that there is room for endless joy in mother's little corner of a heart, and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caught and pressed in her dear arms.
Baby never knew how to cry. He dwelt in the land of perfect bliss.
It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears.
Though with the smile of his dear face he draws mother's yearning
heart to him, yet his little cries over tiny troubles weave the double bond of pity and love.