HER NEIGHBOURS call her dark in the village-but she is a lily to my heart, yes, a lily though not fair. Light came muffled with clouds, when first I saw her in the field; her head was bare, her veil was off, her braided hair hanging loose on her neck. She may be dark as they say in the village, but I have seen her black eyes and am glad.
The pulse of the air boded storm. She rushed out of the hut, when she heard her dappled cow low in dismay. For a moment she turned her large eyes to the clouds, and felt a stir of the coming rain in the sky. I stood at the corner of the ricefield,-if she noticed me, it was known only to her (and perhaps I know it). She is dark as the message of shower in summer, dark as the shade of flowering woodland; she is dark as the longing for unknown love in the wistful night of May.

LORD OF MY being, has your wish been fulfilled in me?
Days have passed without service and nights without love.
Flowers have dropped on to the dust and have not been gathered
for your acceptance.
The harp strings strung with your own hands have slackened and
lost their notes.
I slept in the shadow of your garden and forgot to water your plants.
Is the time over now, my lover? Have we come to the end of this play?
Then let the bell ring of departure, let the morning come for the
freshening of love.
Let the knot of a new life be tied for us in a new bridal bond.

       দয়া করে ইচ্ছা করে আপনি ছোটো হয়ে
           এসো তুমি এ ক্ষুদ্র আলয়ে।
              তাই তোমার মাধুর্যসুধা
              ঘুচায় আমার আঁখির ক্ষুধা,
           জলে স্থলে দাও যে ধরা
              কত আকার লয়ে।
          বন্ধু হয়ে পিতা হয়ে জননী হয়ে
       আপনি তুমি ছোটো হয়ে এসো হৃদয়ে।
              আমিও কি আপন হাতে
              করব ছোটো বিশ্বনাথে।
            জানাব আর জানব তোমায়
              ক্ষুদ্র পরিচয়ে?