এ মৃত্যু ছেদিতে হবে, এই ভয়জালে,
এই পুঞ্জপুঞ্জীভূত জড়ের জঞ্জালে,
মৃত আবর্জনা। ওরে, জাগিতেই হবে
এ দীপ্ত প্রভাতকালে, এ জাগ্রত ভবে
এই কর্মধামে। দুই নেত্র করি আঁধা
জ্ঞানে বাধা, কর্মে বাধা, গতিপথে বাধা,
আচারে বিচারে বাধা, করি দিয়া দূর
ধরিতে হইবে মুক্ত বিহঙ্গের সুর
আনন্দে উদার উচ্চ।
সমস্ত তিমির
ভেদ করি দেখিতে হইবে ঊর্দ্ধশির
এক পূর্ণ জ্যোতির্ময়ে অনন্ত ভুবনে।
ঘোষণা করিতে হবে অসংশয়মনে--
"ওগো দিব্যধামবাসী দেবগণ যত,
মোরা অমৃতের পুত্র তোমাদের মতো।'

WITH HIS morning songs he knocks at our door bringing his greetings of sunrise.
With him we take our cattle to the fields and play our flute in the shade.
We lose him to find him again and again in the market crowd.
In the busy hour of the day we come upon him of a sudden, sitting on the wayside grass.
We march when he beats his drum,
We dance when he sings.
We stake our joys and sorrows to play his game to the end
He stands at the helm of our boat,
With him we rock on the perilous waves.
For him we light our lamp and wait when our day is done.

THE NAME SHE called me by, like a flourishing jasmine, covered the whole seventeen years of our love. With its sound mingled the quiver of the light through the leaves, the scent of the grass in the rainy night, and the sad silence of the last hour of many an idle day.
        Not the work of God alone was he who answered to that name; she created him again for herself during those seventeen swift years.
        Other years were to follow, but their vagrant days, no longer gathered within the fold of that name uttered in her voice, stray and are scattered.
        They ask me, 'Who should fold us?'
        I find no answer and sit silent, and they cry to me while dispersing,
        'We seek a shepherdess!'
        Whom should they seek?
That they do not know. And like derelict evening clouds they drift in the trackless dark, and are lost and forgotten.