I SHALL GLADLY suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house, if only in some fortunate future I am born a herd boy in the Brinda forest.
The herd boy who grazes his cattle sitting under the banyan tree, and idly weaves gunja flowers into garlands, who loves to splash and plunge in the Jamuna's cool deep stream.
He calls his companions to wake up when morning dawns, and all the houses in the lane hum with the sound of the churn, clouds of dust are raised by the cattle, the maidens come out in the courtyard to milk the kine.
As the shadows deepen under the tomal trees, and the dusk gathers on the river-banks; when the milkmaids, while crossing the turbulent water tremble with fear; and loud peacocks, with tails outspread, dance in the forest, he watches the summer clouds.
When the April night is sweet as a fresh-blown flower, he disappears in the forest with a peacock's plume in his hair; the swing ropes are twined with flowers on the branches; the south wind throbs with music, and the merry shepherd boys crowd on the banks of the blue river.
No, I will never be the leader, brothers, of this new age of new Bengal; I shall not trouble to light the lamp of culture for the benighted. If only I could be born, under the shady Ashoka groves, in some village of Brinda, where milk is churned by the maidens.

You WILL LEAD me from star to star to waken me in new mornings of love.
It is your love that draws out the flow of my being through the
maze of channels of new life over your endless worlds.
You will startle me with new visions of fulfilment at every bend
of the road and fashion my moments with immortal forms of joy.
The infinite life will never remain chained in unchanging
shackles of immortality but will speed through death to
death to countless new shrines of light in its eternal pilgrimage of love.

প্রভাতে যখন শঙ্খ উঠেছিল বাজি
তোমার প্রাঙ্গনতলে, ভরি লয়ে সাজি
চলেছিল নরনারী তেয়াগিয়া ঘর
নবীন শিশিরসিক্ত গুঞ্জনমুখর
স্নিগ্ধবনপথ দিয়ে। আমি অন্যমনে
সঘনপল্লবপুঞ্জ ছায়াকুঞ্জবনে
ছিনু শুয়ে তৃণাস্তীর্ণ তরঙ্গিণীতীরে
বিহঙ্গের কলগীতে সুমন্দ সমীরে।
আমি যাই নাই দেব,তোমার পূজায়--
চেয়ে দেখি নাই পথে কারা চলে যায়।
আজ ভাবি ভালো হয়েছিল মোর ভুল,
তখন কুসুমগুলি আছিল মুকুল-
হেরো তারা সারা দিনে ফুটিতেছে আজি।
অপরাহ্নে ভরিলাম এ পূজার সাজি।