একদা প্রাতে কুঞ্জতলে
অন্ধ বালিকা
পত্রপুটে  আনিয়া দিল
পুষ্পমালিকা।
কণ্ঠে পরি অশ্রুজল
ভরিল নয়নে;
বক্ষে লয়ে চুমিনু তার
স্নিগ্ধ বয়নে।
কহিনু তারে "অন্ধকারে
দাঁড়ায়ে রমণী
কী ধন তুমি করিছ দান
না জান আপনি।
পুষ্পসম অন্ধ তুমি
অন্ধ বালিকা,
দেখ নি নিজে মোহন কী যে
তোমার মালিকা।'

THE NEWS OF my love is abroad among the spring flowers.
It brings to my mind the old songs.
My heart of a sudden has put on green leaves of desire.
My love came not but her touch is on my hair, and her voice comes across
the fragrant fields in murmurs of April.
Her gaze is here in the sky, but where are her eyes?
Her kisses are in the air, but where are her lips?

THEY KNEW the way and went to seek you along the narrow lane, but I wandered abroad into the night for I was ignorant.
I was not schooled enough to be afraid of you in the dark, therefore I came upon your doorstep unaware.
The wise rebuked me and bade me be gone, for I had not come by the lane.
I turned away in doubt, but you held me fast, and their scolding became louder every day.