তোমারে বলেছে যারা পুত্র হতে প্রিয়,
বিত্ত হতে প্রিয়তর, যা-কিছু আত্মীয়
সব হতে প্রিয়তম নিখিল ভুবনে,
আত্মার অন্তরতর, তাদের চরণে
পাতিয়া রাখিতে চাহি হৃদয় আমার।
সে সরল শান্ত প্রেম গভীর উদার--
সে নিশ্চিত নিঃসংশয়,সেই সুনিবিড়
সহজ মিলনাবেগ, সেই চিরস্থির
আত্মার একাগ্র লক্ষ্য, সেই সর্ব কাজে
সহজেই সঞ্চরণ সদা তোমা-মাঝে
গম্ভীর প্রশান্ত চিত্তে, হে অন্তরযামী,
কেমনে করিব লাভ? পদে পদে আমি
প্রেমের প্রবাহ তব সহজ বিশ্বাসে
অন্তরে টানিয়া লব নিশ্বাসে নিশ্বাসে।

IN THE beginning of time, there rose from the churning of God's dream two women. One is the dancer at the court of paradise, the desired of men, she who laughs and plucks the minds of the wise from their cold meditations and of fools from their emptiness; and scatters them like seeds with careless hands in the extravagant winds of March, in the flowering frenzy of May.
The other is the crowned queen of heaven, the mother, throned on the fullness of golden autumn; she who in the harvest-time brings straying hearts to the smile sweet as tears, the beauty deep as the sea of silence,- brings them to the temple of the Unknown, at the holy confluence of Life and Death

I THOUGHT I should ask of thee but I dared not the rose wreath thou hadst on thy neck. Thus I waited for the morning, when thou didst depart, to find a few fragments on the bed. And like a beggar I searched in the dawn only for a stray petal or two.
Ah me, what is it I find? What token left of thy love? It is no flower, no spices, no vase of perfumed water. It is thy mighty sword, flashing as a flame, heavy as a bolt of thunder. The young light of morning comes through the window and spreads itself upon thy bed. The morning bird twitters and asks, 'Woman, what hast thou got?' No, it is no flower, nor spices, nor vase of perfumed waterit is thy dreadful sword.
I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of thine. I can find no place where to hide it. I am ashamed to wear it, frail as I am, and it hurts me when I press it to my bosom. Yet shall I bear in my heart this honour of the burden of pain, this gift of thine.
From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and thou shalt be victorious in all my strife. Thou hast left death for my companion and I shall crown him with my life. Thy sword is with me to cut asunder my bonds, and there shall be no fear left for me in the world.
From now I leave off all petty decorations. Lord of my heart, no more shall there be for me waiting and weeping in corners, no more coyness and sweetness of demeanour. Thou hast given me thy sword for adornment. No more doll's decorations for me!