I SHALL NOT wait and watch in the house for thy coming,
but will go forth into the open,
for the petals fall from the drooping flowers and time flies to its end.
The wind is up, the water is ruffled.
Be swift and cut the rope,
let the boat drift in the midstream, for the time flies to its end.
The night is pale, the lonely moon is playing its ferry of dreams
across the sky.
The path is unknown, but I heed it not.
My mind has the wings of freedom
and I know that I shall cross the dark.
Let me but start on my journey, for the time flies to its end.

WHEN THE creation was new and all the stars shone in their first splendour, the gods held their assembly in the sky and sang 'Oh, the picture of perfection! the joy unalloyed!'
But one cried of a sudden-It seems that somewhere there is a break in the chain of light and one of the stars has been lost.'
The golden string of their harp snapped, their song stopped, and they cried in dismay-'Yes, that lost star was the best, she was the glory of all heavens!'
From that day the search is unceasing for her, and the cry goes on from one to the other that in her the world has lost its one joy! Only in the deepest silence of night the stars smile and whisper among themselves-'Vain is this seeking! Unbroken perfection is over all!'

নিরুদ্যম অবকাশ শূন্য শুধু,
       শান্তি তাহা নয়--
যে কর্মে রয়েছে সত্য
       তাহাতে শান্তির পরিচয়।