I LONG TO GO over there to the further bank of the river, Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line; Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields; Where the cowherds make their lowing cattle swim across to the riverside pasture; Whence they all come back home in the evening, leaving the jackals to howl in the island overgrown with weeds. Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman of the ferry when I am grown up. They say there are strange pools hidden behind that high bank, Where flocks of wild ducks come when the rains are over, and thick reeds grow round the margins where waterbirds lay their eggs; Where snipes with their dancing tails stamp their tiny footprints upon the clean soft mud; Where in the evening the tall grasses crested with white flowers invite the moonbeam to float upon their waves. Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman of the ferryboat when I am grown up. I shall cross and cross back from bank to bank, and all the boys and girls of the village will wonder at me while they are bathing. When the sun climbs the mid sky and morning wears on to noon, I shall come running to you, saying, 'Mother, I am hungry!' When the day is done and the shadows cower under the trees, I shall come back in the dusk. I shall never go away from you into the town to work like father. Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman of the ferryboat when I am grown up.
THE SUN shone on a far-away morning, while the forest murmured its hymn of praise to light; and the hills, veiled in vapour, dimly glimmered like earth's dream in purple. The King sat alone in the coconut grove, his eyes drowned in a vision, his heart exultant with the rapturous hope of spreading the chant of adoration along the unending path of time: 'Let Buddha be my refuge.' His words found utterance in a deathless speech of delight, in an ecstasy of forms. The island took it upon her heart; her hill raised it to the sky. Age after age, the morning sun daily illumined its great meaning. While the harvest was sown and reaped in the near-by fields by the stream, and life, with its chequered light, made pictured shadows on its epochs of changing screen, the prayer, once Uttered in the quiet green of an ancient morning, ever rose in the midst of the hide-and-seek of tumultuous time: 'Let Buddha be my refuge.' The King, at the end of his days, is merged in the shadow of a nameless night among the unremembered, leaving his salutation in an imperishable rhythm of stone which ever cries: 'Let Buddha be my refuge.' Generations of pilgrims came on the quest of an immortal voice for their worship; and this sculptured hymn, in a grand symphony of gestures, took up their lowly names and uttered for them: 'Let Buddha be my refuge.' The spirit of those words has been muffled in mist in this mocking age of unbelief, and the curious crowds gather here to gloat in the gluttony of an irreverent sight. Man to-day has no peace,his heart arid with pride. He clamours for an ever-increasing speed in a fury of chase for objects that ceaselessly run, but never reach a meaning. And now is the time when he must come groping at last to the sacred silence, which stands still in the midst of surging centuries of noise, till he feels assured that in an immeasurable love dwells the final meaning of Freedom, whose prayer is: 'Let Buddha be my refuge.'
হেথায় তাহারে পাই কাছে-- যত কাছে ধরাতল, যত কাছে ফুলফল-- যত কাছে বায়ু জল আছে। যেমন পাখির গান, যেমন জলের তান, যেমনি এ প্রভাতের আলো, যেমনি এ কোমলতা, অরণ্যের শ্যামলতা, তেমনি তাহারে বাসি ভালো। যেমন সুন্দর সন্ধ্যা, যেমন রজনীগন্ধা, শুকতারা আকাশের ধারে, যেমন সে অকলুষা শিশিরনির্মলা উষা, তেমনি সুন্দর হেরি তারে। যেমন বৃষ্টির জল, যেমন আকাশতল, সুখসুপ্তি যেমন নিশার, যেমন তটিনীনীর, বটচ্ছায়া অটবীর, তেমনি সে মোর আপনার। যেমন নয়ন ভরি অশ্রুজল পড়ে ঝরি তেমনি সহজ মোর গীতি-- যেমন রয়েছে প্রাণ ব্যাপ্ত করি মর্মস্থান তেমনি রয়েছে তার প্রীতি।
