IF I AM impatient today, forgive me, my love. It is the first summer rain, and the riverside forest is aflutter, and the blossoming kadam trees, are tempting the passing winds with wine-cups of perfume. See, from all corners of the sky lightnings are darting their glances, and winds are rampant in your hair. If to-day I bring my homage to you, forgive me, my love. The everyday world is hidden in the dimness of the rain, all work has stopped in the village, the meadows are desolate. In your dark eyes the coming of the rain finds its music, and it is at your door that July waits with jasmines for your hair in its blue skirt.
নিজের হাতে উপার্জনে সাধনা নেই সহিষ্ণুতার। পরের কাছে হাত পেতে খাই, বাহাদুরি তারি গুঁতার। কৃপণ দাতার অন্নপাকে ডাল যদি বা কমতি থাকে গাল-মিশানো গিলি তো ভাত-- নাহয় তাতে নেইকো সুতার। নিজের জুতার পাত্তা না পাই, স্বাদ পাওয়া যায় পরের জুতার।
YOU CAME down from your throne and stood at my cottage door. I was singing all alone in a corner, and the melody caught your ear. You came down and stood at my cottage door. Masters are many in your hall, and songs are sung there at all hours. But the simple carol of this novice struck at your love. One plaintive little strain mingled with the great music of the world, and with a flower for a prize you came down and stopped at my cottage door.
