চলার গতি শেষের প্রতি
         হোক-না অনুকূল।
পথের বোঁটা কঠিন অতি,
         গৃহটি তার ফুল।
শমেতে এসে মিটুক মম
         গানের যত ক্ষুধা।
কর্ম হোক পাত্র মম
         ধর্ম হোক সুধা।

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.

MOTHER, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck with my tears of sorrow.
The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet, but mine will hang upon thy breast.
Wealth and fame come from thee and it is for thee to give or to withhold them. But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own, and when I bring it to thee as my offering thou rewardest me with thy grace.