COME TO MY garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some chance joy, that like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet eludes.
For love's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust. Overtake it or miss it for ever. But a gift that can be grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with a flame that will flicker.

FOR A MERE nothing fill me with gladness. Only hold my hand in your hand.
In the deepening night take up my heart and play with it as you wish.
Bind me close to you with nothing.
I shall spread myself out at your feet and lie still.
I shall meet silence with silence under this sky.
I shall become one with the night, clasping the earth to my breast.
Make my life glad with nothing.
The rains sweep the sky from end to end.
In the wild wet wind jasmines revel in their own perfume.
The cloud-hidden stars thrill in secret.
Let me fill my heart to the full with nothing but my own depth of joy.

১০০
দিনে দিনে মোর কর্ম আপন দিনের মজুরি পায়।
প্রেম সে আমার চিরদিবসের চরম মূল্য চায়॥