PILGRIM, THE night of the weary old year is ended.
The blazing sun brings on your path the call of the Destroyer,
the fiery scourge for pollutions of the past.
A thin line of distance stretches along the road
like a fine-drawn note from the one-stringed lute of a beggar
seeking the way he has lost.
Let the grey dust of the road
take you up in her arms,
lead you away from the clasp of clinging reluctance!
Not for you is the music of the home,
the light of the evening lamp,
the wistful gaze of the lover keeping watch.
You have ever claimed the boon of Life
which is not in pleasure nor in peace or comfort,
wherefore the time has come for you
for rejection at every door.
The Cruel One has come,
the bolts and bars of your gate are broken,
your wine vessel shattered;
take his hand whom you do not know
and dare not understand.
Never fear, pilgrim!
Turn not away from the terror of Truth,
nor be afraid of the phantom of the unreal,
take your last gift from him
who takes away everything.
Has the old night ended?
Then let it end!

I AM THE weary earth of summer bare of life and parched.
I wait for thy shower to come down in the night when I open my breast and receive it in silence.
I long to give thee in return my songs and flowers.
But empty is my store, and only the deep sigh rises from my heart
through the withered grass.
But I know that thou wilt wait for the morning when my hours will brim with their riches.

বিবশ দিন, বিরস কাজ,
          কে কোথা ছিনু দোঁহে,
সহসা প্রেম আসিলে আজ
          কী মহা সমারোহে।
নীরবে রয় অলস মন,
আঁধারময় ভবনকোণ,
ভাঙিলে দ্বার কোন্‌ সে ক্ষণ
          অপরাজিত ওহে!
সহসা প্রেম আসিলে আজ
          বিপুল বিদ্রোহে।
কানন-'পর ছায়া বুলায়,
          ঘনায় ঘনঘটা।
গঙ্গা যেন হেসে দুলায়
          ধূর্জটির জটা।
যে যেথা রয় ছাড়িল পথ,
          ছুটালে ওই বিজয়রথ,
আঁখি তোমার তড়িৎবৎ
          ঘন ঘুমের মোহে।
সহসা প্রেম আসিলে আজ
          বেদনাদান বহে।