I DREAM OF a star, an island of light, where I shall be born and in the depth of its quickening leisure my life will ripen its works like the ricefield in the autumn sun.
THE BEGGAR IN me lifted his lean hands to the starless sky and cried into night's ear with his hungry voice. His prayers were to the blind Darkness who lay like a fallen god in a desolate heaven of lost hopes. The cry of desire eddied round a chasm of despair, a wailing bird circling its empty nest. But when morning dropped anchor at the rim of the East, the beggar m me leapt and cried: 'Blessed am I that the deaf night denied me-that its coffer was empty.' He cried, 'O Life, O Light, you are precious! and precious is the joy that at last has known you!'
WHEN I ROSE from my sleep I found a basket of oranges at my feet, my mind wondered who could be the giver of such a gift; my guesses flew from one name to another but sweet names were abandoned like flowers in the Spring, and all varied names combined to make this gift a perfect one.
আসা-যাওয়ার পথ চলেছে উদয় হতে অস্তাচলে, কেঁদে হেসে নানান বেশে পথিক চলে দলে দলে। নামের চিহ্ন রাখিতে চায় এই ধরণীর ধুলা জুড়ে, দিন না যেতেই রেখা তাহার ধুলার সাথে যায় যে উড়ে।