I THOUGHT I had something to say to her when our eyes met across the hedge. But she passed away. And it rocks day and night, like a boat, on every wave of the hours the word that I had to say to her. It seems to sail in the autumn clouds in an endless quest and to bloom into evening flowers seeking its lost moment in the sunset. It twinkles like fireflies in my heart to find its meaning in the dusk of despair the word that I had to say to her.

BRING BEAUTY and order into my forlorn life, woman, as you brought them into my house when you lived.
Sweep away the dusty fragments of the hours, fill the empty jars, and mend all that has been neglected.
Then open the inner door of the shrine, light the candle, and let us meet there in silence before our God.

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।