WHEN STORM clouds rumble in the sky and June showers come down,
The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its bagpipes among the bamboos.
Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody knows where, and dance upon the grass in wild glee.
Mother, I really think the flowers go to school underground.
They do their lessons with doors shut, and if they want to come out to play before it is time, their master makes them stand in a corner.
When the rains come they have their holidays.
Branches clash together in the forest, and the leaves rustle in the wild wind, the thunder-clouds clap their giant hands and the flower children rush out in dresses of pink and yellow and white.
Do you know, mother, their home is in the sky, where the stars are.
Haven't you seen how eager they are to get there? Don't you know why they are in such a hurry?
Of course, I can guess to whom they raise their arms: they have their mother as I have my own.

১৫৯
ভেবেছিনু গনি গনি লব সব তারা--
     গনিতে গনিতে রাত হয়ে যায় সারা,
         বাছিতে বাছিতে কিছু না পাইনু বেছে।
আজ বুঝিলাম, যদি না চাহিয়া চাই
     তবেই তো একসাথে সব-কিছু পাই,
         সিন্ধুরে তাকায়ে দেখো,মরিয়ো না সেঁচে॥  

ONCE YOU HAD lent to my eyes a generous portion from your
limitless store of light; now at the day's end you have
come to reclaim it, my master, and I know for certain that I must make good my debt
But why cast shadow before my evening lamp? I am but a guest for
a few days in this world that has come of your light, but if out of its abundance a few fragments of that light are left behind, let them remain in careless neglect at the last trace of your chariot.
Let me glean from that dust some scattered lights and shadows,
some gleam of coloured illusion with which to build my own little world as a slight remnant of your debt, not worth gathering for good.