সেই তো আমি চাই। সাধনা যে শেষ হবে মোর সে ভাবনা তো নাই। ফলের তরে নয় তো খোঁজা-- কে বইবে সে বিষম বোঝা, যেই ফলে ফল ধুলায় ফেলে আবার ফুল ফুটাই। এমনি করে মোর জীবনে অসীম ব্যাকুলতা, নিত্য নূতন সাধনাতে নিত্য নূতন ব্যথা। পেলেই সে তো ফুরিয়ে ফেলি, আবার আমি দু হাত মেলি-- নিত্য দেওয়া ফুরায় না যে নিত্য নেওয়া তাই।
THE NIGHT is nearly spent waiting for him in vain. I fear lest in the morning he suddenly come to my door when I have fallen asleep wearied out. Oh friends, leave the way open to him-forbid him not. If the sound of his steps does not wake me, do not try to rouse me, I pray. I wish not to be called from my sleep by the clamorous choir of birds, by the riot of wind at the festival of morning light. Let me sleep undisturbed even if my lord comes of a sudden to my door. Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for his touch to vanish. Ah, my closed eyes that would open their lids only to the light of his smile when he stands before me like a dream emerging from darkness of sleep. Let him appear before my sight as the first of all lights and all forms. The first thrill of joy to my awakened soul let it come from his glance. And let my return to myself be immediate return to him.
A HANDFUL OF dust could hide your signal when I did not know its meaning. Now that I am wiser I read it in all that hid it before. It is painted in petals of flowers; waves flash it from their foam; hills hold it high on their summits. I had my face turned from you, therefore I read the letters awry and knew not their meaning.
