A PAINTER was selling pictures at the fair; followed by servants, there passed the son of a minister who in youth had cheated this painter's father so that he had died of a broken heart.
        The boy lingered before the pictures and chose one for himself. The painter flung a cloth over it and said he would not sell it.
        After this the boy pined heart-sick till his father came and offered a large price. But the painter kept the picture unsold on his shop-wall and grimly sat before it, saying to himself, 'This is my revenge.'
The sole form this painter's worship took was to trace an image of his god every morning.
        And now he felt these pictures grow daily more different from those he used to paint.
        This troubled him, and he sought in vain for an explanation till one day he started up from work in horror, the eyes of the god he had just drawn were those of the minister, and so were the lips.
        He tore up the picture, crying, 'My revenge has returned on my head!'

THE SUN SHINES, the rain pours down in showers,
the leaves glisten in the bamboo grove,
the smell of the newly tilled earth fills the air.
Our hands are strong, our hearts glad,
as we toil from morning till night to plough the land.
The spirit of a poet dances in swaying cadence
along the meadows, writing its verses of green lines,
spreading ripples of thrill through the ripening rice field.
The Earth's heart is joyous in the sunny October hours,
in the cloudless nights of the full moon,
as we toil from morning till night to plough the land.

তোমার ইঙ্গিতখানি দেখি নি যখন
ধূলিমুষ্টি ছিল তারে করিয়া গোপন।
যখনি দেখেছি আজ, তখনি পুলকে
নিরখি ভুবনময় আঁধারে আলোকে
জ্বলে সে ইংগিত; শাখে শাখে ফুলে ফুলে
ফুটে সে ইঙ্গিত; সমুদ্রের কূলে কূলে
ধরিত্রীর তটে তটে চিহ্ন আঁকি ধায়
ফেনাঙ্কিত তরঙ্গের চূড়ায় চূড়ায়
দ্রুত সে ইঙ্গিত; শুভ্রশীর্ষ হিমাদ্রির
শৃঙ্গে  শৃঙ্গে  ঊর্ধ্বমুখে জাগি রহে স্থির
স্তব্ধ সে ইংগিত।
তখন তোমার পানে
বিমুখ হইয়া ছিনু কি লয়ে কে জানে!
বিপরীত মুখে তারে পড়েছিনু, তাই
বিশ্বজোড়া সে লিপির অর্থ বুঝি নাই।