THE PAIN WAS great when the strings were being tuned, my Master!
Begin your music, and let me forget the pain; let me feel in beauty what you had in your mind through those pitiless days.
The waning night lingers at my doors, let her take her leave in songs.
Pour your heart into my life strings, my Master, in tunes that descend from your stars.

       ভ্রমণকারী মন,
ভ্রমণ করার তীর্থ তাহার
     আপন ঘরের কোণ!

SHE IS NEAR TO my heart as the meadow-flower to the earth; she is sweet to me as sleep is to tired limbs. My love for her is my life flowing in its fullness, like a river in autumn flood, running with serene abandonment.
My songs are one with my love, like the murmur of a stream, that sings with all its waves and currents.