IN THE NIGHT the song came to me; but you were not there.
        It found the words for which I had been seeking all day. Yes, in the stillness a moment after dark they throbbed into music, even as the stars then began to pulse with light; but you were not there. My hope was to sing it to you in the morning; but, try as I might, though the music came, the words hung back, when you were beside me.

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.

তোমারে করিবে বন্দী নিত্যকাল মৃত্তিকা-শৃঙ্খলে
      সাধ্য আছে কার?
সত্যের বন্ধন পরো, সে বন্ধন প্রেমমন্ত্র বলে
      করো অলংকার।
জীবন-বীণার তার অশিথিল শক্তি দিয়ে বাঁধো,
দিনেরাত্রে সুখে-দুঃখে আলোয় আঁধারে তুমি সাধো
      মৃত্যুহীন প্রাণের ঝংকার।