HILLS ARE THE earth's gesture of despair
for the unreachable.

IF THERE is nothing but pain in loving
then why is this love?
What folly is this to claim her heart
because you have offered her your own!
With the desire burning in your blood
and madness glowing in your eyes
why is this circling of a desert?
He bankers for nothing in the world
who is in possession of himself;
the sweet air of the spring is for him,
the flowers, the bird songs;
but love comes like a devouring shadow
effacing the whole world,
eclipsing life and youth.
Then why seek this mist that darkens existence?

        অন্নের লাগি মাঠে
লাঙলে মানুষ মাটিতে আঁচড় কাটে।
     কলমের মুখে আঁচড় কাটিয়া
        খাতার পাতার তলে
            মনের অন্ন ফলে।