THE FLUTE-SOUND of a holiday music
floats in the air.
It is not the time for me to sit and brood alone.
The shiuli branches shiver
with the thrill of an impending flower-time,
the touch of the dew is over the woodland.
On the fairy web in the forest path
the light and shadow feel each other.
The tall grass sends waves of laughter to the sky in its flowers,
and I gaze upon the horizon, seeking for my song.

    খুদিরাম ক'সে টান
       দিল থেলো হুঁকোতে--
    গেল সারবান কিছু
       অন্তরে ঢুকোতে।
অবশেষে হাঁড়ি শেষ করি রসগোল্লার
রোদে বসে খুদুবাবু গান ধরে মোল্লার;
    বলে, 'এতখানি রস
       দেহ থেকে চুকোতে
    হবে তাকে ধোঁয়া দিয়ে
       সাত দিন শুকোতে।'

I FELT I SAW your face, and I launched my boat in the dark.
Now the morning breaks in smiles and the spring flowers are in bloom.
Yet should the light fail and the flowers fade I will sail onward.
When you made mute signal to me the world slumbered and the
darkness was bare.
Now the bells ring loud and the boat is laden with gold.
Yet should the bells become silent and my boat be empty I will sail onward.
Some boats have gone away and some are not ready, but I will not
tarry behind.
The sails have filled, the birds come from the other shore.
Yet, if the sails droop, if the message of the shore be lost, I will sail onward.