THE STORM is like the cry of some god in pain whose love the earth refuses.

COME FRIEND, who can free me from bonds of toil,
for I lag behind while the pilgrims rush to follow their vision.
Come like a sudden flood that runs with its offerings to the sea,
Sweep me away from the load that drags me down.
Come from among the crowd,
you, to whom I fully belong,
who can call me by my own true name
and smile and be known to me for ever.

চোখ হতে চোখে
      খেলে কালো বিদ্যুৎ--
হৃদয় পাঠায়      আপন গোপন দূত।