BID ME AND I shall gather my fruits to bring them in full baskets into your courtyard, though some are lost and some not ripe.
For the season grows heavy with its fulness, and there is a plaintive shepherd's pipe in the shade.
Bid me and I shall set sail on the river.
The March wind is fretful, fretting the languid waves into murmurs.
The garden has yielded its all, and in the weary hour of evening the call comes from your house on the shore in the sunset.

       আমার এ গান ছেড়েছে তার
                    সকল অলংকার,
       তোমার কাছে রাখে নি আর
                    সাজের অহংকার।
         অলংকার যে মাঝে পড়ে
         মিলনেতে আড়াল করে,
         তোমার কথা ঢাকে যে তার
                    মুখর ঝংকার।
                           তোমার কাছে খাটে না মোর
                                         কবির গরব করা,
                           মহাকবি, তোমার পায়ে
                                         দিতে চাই যে ধরা।
                             জীবন লয়ে যতন করি'
                             যদি সকল বাঁশি গড়ি,
                             আপন সুরে দিবে ভরি
                                         সকল ছিদ্র তার।

I.16. santan jat na pucho nirguniyan
IT is NEEDLESS to ask of a saint the caste to which he belongs;
For the priest, the warrior, the tradesman, and all the thirty-six castes, alike are seeking for God.
It is but folly to ask what the caste of a saint may be;
The barber has sought God, the washer-woman, and the carpenter
Even Raidas was a seeker after God.
The Rishi Swapacha was a tanner by caste.
Hindus and Moslems alike have achieved that End, where remains no mark of distinction.