তব           গানের সুরে হৃদয় মম রাখো হে রাখো ধরে,
       তারে        দিয়ো না কভু ছুটি।
তব        আদেশ দিয়ে রজনীদিন দাও হে দাও ভরে,
       প্রভু,        আমার বাহু দুটি।
তব        পলকহারা আলোক-দিঠি মরম-'পরে রাখো,
যত        শরমে মোর শরম দিয়ে নীরবে চেয়ে থাকো,
প্রভু,        সকল-ভরা ক্ষমায় তব রাখো আবৃত করে
       মোর           যেখানে যত ত্রুটি।
মোরে        দিয়ো না দিন সুখের আশে করিতে দিন গত
       শুধু              শয়ন-'পরে লুটি।
আমি        চাই নি যাহা তাই দিয়ো হে আপন ইচ্ছামতো
       আমার        ভরিয়া দুই মুঠি।
মোর        যতই তৃষা ততই কৃপা-বরষা এসো নেমে,
মোর        যত গভীর দৈন্য তত ভরিয়া তোলো প্রেমে,
মোর        যত কঠিন গর্ব তারে হানো ততই বলে--
       তাহা           পড়ুক পায়ে টুটি।

THE MAN had no useful work, only vagaries of various kinds.
        Therefore it surprised him to find himself in Paradise after a life spent perfecting trifles.
        Now the guide had taken him by mistake to the wrong Paradise-one meant only for good, busy souls.
In this Paradise, our man saunters along the road only to obstruct the rush of business.
        He stands aside from the path and is warned that he tramples on sown seed. Pushed, he starts up: hustled, he moves on.
        A very busy girl comes to fetch water from the well. Her feet run on the pavement like rapid fingers over harp-strings. Hastily she des a negligent knot with her hair, and loose locks on her forehead pry into the dark of her eyes.
        The man says to her, 'Would you lend me your pitcher?'
        'My pitcher?' she asks, 'to draw water?'
        'No, to paint patterns on.'
        I have no time to waste,' the girl retorts in contempt.
Now a busy soul has no chance against one who is supremely idle.
        Every day she meets him at the well, and every day he repeats the same request, till at last she yields.
        Our man paints the pitcher with curious colours in a mysterious maze of lines.
The girl takes it up, turns it round and asks, 'What does it mean?'
        'It has no meaning,' he answers.
        The girl carries the pitcher home. She holds it up in different lights and tries to con its mystery.
        At night she leaves her bed, lights a lamp, and gazes at it from all points of view.
        This is the first time she has met with something without meaning.
On the next day the man is again near the well.
        The girl asks, 'What do you want?'
        'To do more work for you.'
        'What work?' she enquires.
        'Allow me to weave coloured strands into a ribbon to bindyour hair.'
        'Is there any need?' she asks.
        'None whatever,' he allows,
        The ribbon is made, and thenceforward she spends a great deal of time over her hair.
        The even stretch of well-employed time in that Paradise begins to show irregular rents.
        The elders are troubled; they meet in council.
        The guide confesses his blunder, saying that he has brought the wrong man to the wrong place.
        The wrong man is called. His turban, flaming with colour, shows plainly how great that blunder has been.
        The chief of the elders says, 'You must go back to the earth.'
        The man heaves a sigh of relief: I am ready.'
        The girl with the ribbon round her hair chimes in: I also!'
        For the first time the chief of the elders is faced with a situation which has no sense in it.

MY EYES FEEL the deep peace of this sky, and there stirs through me what a tree feels when it holds out its leaves like cups to be filled with sunshine.
A thought rises in my mind, like the warm breath from grass in the sun; it mingles with the gurgle of lapping water and the sigh of weary wind in village lanes,the thought that I have lived along with the whole life of this world and have given to it my own love and sorrows.