ফুলদানি হতে একে একে আয়ুক্ষীণ গোলাপের পাপড়ি পড়িল ঝরে ঝরে। ফুলের জগতে মৃত্যুর বিকৃতি নাহি দেখি। শেষ ব্যঙ্গ নাহি হানে জীবনের পানে অসুন্দর। যে মাটির কাছে ঋণী আপনার ঘৃণা দিয়ে অশুচি করে না তারে ফুল, রূপে গন্ধে ফিরে দেয় ম্লান অবশেষ। বিদায়ের সকরুণ স্পর্শ আছে তাহে; নাইকো ভর্ৎসনা। জন্মদিনে মৃত্যুদিনে দোঁহে যবে করে মুখোমুখি দেখি যেন সে মিলনে পূর্বাচলে অস্তাচলে অবসন্ন দিবসের দৃষ্টিবিনিময়-- সমুজ্জ্বল গৌরবের প্রণত সুন্দর অবসান।
YOUR WINDOW half opened and veil half raised you stand there waiting for the bangle-seller to come with his tinsel. You idly watch the heavy cart creak on in the dusty road, and the boat-mast crawling along the horizon across the far-off river. The world to you is like an old woman's chant at her spinning-wheel, unmeaning rhymes crowded with random images. But who knows if he is on his way this lazy sultry noon, the Stranger, carrying his basket of strange wares. He will pass by your door with his clear cry, and you shall fling open your window, cast off your veil, come out of the dusk of your dreams and meet your destiny.
I TRAVELLED the old road every day, I took my fruits to the market, my cattle to the meadows, I ferried my boat across the stream and all the ways were well known to me. One morning my basket was heavy with wares. Men were busy in the fields, the pastures crowded with cattle; the breast of earth heaved with the mirth of ripening rice. Suddenly there was a tremor in the air, and the sky seemed to kiss me on my forehead. My mind started up like the morning out of mist. I forgot to follow the track. I stepped a few paces from the path, and my familiar world appeared strange to me, like a flower I had only known in bud. My everyday wisdom was ashamed. I went astray in the fairyland of things. It was the best luck of my life, that I lost my path that morning, and found my eternal childhood.
