**1
সেই আমাদের দেশের পদ্ম
তেমনি মধুর হেসে
ফুটেছে ভাই অন্য নামে
অন্য সুদূর দেশে।
**2
1
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, <flutter and fall there> which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a whisper.
2
The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover.
It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.
**3
3
Asks the Possible to the Impossible
“Where is your dwelling place?”
“In the dreams of the impotent,”
Comes the answer.
4
The wasp thinks that the honey hive of the neighbo{u}ring bees is too small.
His neighbo<+++>{u}<+++>{r}s ask him to build one still smaller.
5
Tiny grass, your steps are small{,} but you possess the earth under your tread.
**4
6
Chastity is a wealth that comes from abundance of love.
7
The night’s flower was late when the morning kissed her.
She shivered and sighed and dropped to the ground.
8
The echo mocks her origin to prove that she is the original.
9
৲Find your beauty,৲ ৴My heart৴ from the world’s movement, like the boat that has the grace of the wind and the water.
**5
10
Dream is a wife who must talk,
Sleep is a husband who silently suffers.
11
I cannot tell why this heart languishes in silence,
It is for small needs it never asks or knows or remembers.
12
±{O}±
The moon has her light all over the sky, her dark spots to herself.
13
±{O}±
The mind sharp but not broad sticks at every point but {does not} move<es not>.
**6
14
I sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer by stops for a moment, nods to me and goes.
15
±{O}±
The— raindrops kiss the earth and whisper<+++>,— “We are thy homesick children, mother, come back to thee<+++> from the heaven.”
16
The <g>{G}reat walks with the Small without fear.
The Middling <+++> aloof.
**7
17
Toes are the fingers <who> {that} have for<gotten>{saken} their past.
18
My flower of the day dropped its petals forgotten.
In the evening it ripe<+++>{n}s in<+++>{t}<+++>{o} a golden fruit of memory. ±{+++}±
19
This longing is for the one who is felt in the dark, but not seen in the day.
**8
20
While the glass lamp rebukes <the earthen> the <+++> earthen <+++> for calling it cousin{,} the moon rises{,} and the glass lamp{,} with a bland smile{,} calles her,— “My dear, dear <cousin> sister!”
21
<Little> <{Lowly}> <w>{W}ayside grass, love the star<+++>
<{+++}> {Then} your dreams <will> {will} come out in flowers.
22
The bird-song is the echo of the morning light— back from the earth.
23
In heart’s perspective the distant looms large.
**9
24
Not hammer strokes, but dance of the water sings the pebbles into perfection.
25
“I have lost my dewdrop,” <cried> {cries} the flower to the morning sky <who> that has lost all its stars.
26
The storm is like {the cry of} some god in pain whose love the earth refuses.
27
The world does not leak because death is not a crack.
28
Your idol is shattered in the dust to prove that God’s dust is greater than your idol.
**10
29
The cricket’s chirp and the patter of rain come to me through the dark, like the r<+++>{u}stle of dreams <+++> {from} my past youth.
30
“My heart is like the golden casket of thy kiss,” said the sunset cloud to the sun.
31
The birth and death of the leaves are the rapid whirls of the eddy whose wider cycles move slowly among stars.
32
Man goes into the noisy crowd to drown his {own} clamour of silence.
**11
33
The port wind is out over the sea and the forest to seek his own voice.
34
The hills are like shouts of children who rais<ing>{e} their arms, trying to catch stars<+++>
35
<+++> <b>{B}ees sip <+++> honey from flowers and hum their thanks when they leave.
The gaudy butterfly is sure that the flowers owe {thanks to} him <their thanks>.
36
The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of its tail.
**12
37
“Moon, for what do you wait?”
“To salute the sun for whom I must make way.”
38
The infant flower opens its bud and cries,
“Dear world, please donot fade!”
39
The mist, like love, plays upon the hearts of the hills and brings out surprises of beauty.
40
Man is a born child, his power is the power of growth.
**13
41
“You are the big drop of dew under the lotus leaf,
I am the smaller one on its upper side,” said the dewdrop to the lake.
42
Thoughts pass in my mind like flocks of ducks in the sky.
I hear the voice of their wings, not their songs.
43
God is ashamed when the prosperous boasts of His special favour.
44
The grassblade is worthy of the great world where <he> {it} grows.
**14
45
My heart has spread its sails to the idle winds for the shadowy island of <A>{a}nywhere.
46
The leaf becomes <a> flower when it loves<.>
The flower becomes <a> fruit when it worships.
47
“I cannot keep your waves” says the bank to the river,
“Let me keep your footprints in my heart.”
**15
48
“The learned says that your lights will ৲one day৲ ৴be no more৴,” said the firefly to the stars.
The stars made no answer.
49
The night opens the flowers in secret and allows the day to get thanks.
50
The burning log bursts in flame and cries{,—} “This is my flower, my death.”
**16
51
“Are you too proud to kiss me?”{—} the morning light asks the buttercup.
52
God loves man’s <little> lamp lights better than his own great stars.
53
One sad voice has its nest among the ruins of the years.
It sings to me in night,— “I loved you.”
54
We read the world wrong and say that it deceives us.
**17
55
“Who drives me forward like fate?”
“The <m>{M}yself striving on my back.”
56
“We, the rustling leaves{,} have a voice that answers the storms, but who are you so silent?”
“I am a mere flower.”
57
The song feels the infinite in the air, the picture in the earth, the poem in the air and the earth;
For its words have meaning that walks and music that soars.
**18
58
Let me think that there is one ৲among those৲ ৴star{s}৴ that guides my life through the dark unknown.
59
The cloud stood humbly in a corner of the sky<+++>
The morning crowned it with splendour.
60
The movement of life has its rest in its own music.
61
A mind all logic is like a knife all blade.
It makes the hand bleed that uses it.
**19
62
The raindrop whispered to the Jasmine,
“Keep me in your heart for ever<+++>”
The Jasmine sighed, “Alas,” and dropped to the ground.
63
The mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass, who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.
64
The dry river bed finds no thanks for its past.
**20
64
The waterfall sings, “I find my song, when I find my freedom.”
65
Thou raisest thy waves vainly to follow thy lover, O sea, thou lovely bride of the storm!
66
The smoke boasts to the sky, and the ashes to the earth, that they are brothers to the fire.
67
Where is the fountain that throws up these flowers in a ceaseless flow?
**21
68
These little thoughts are the rustle of leaves in my mind, they have their joy.
69
This {rainy} evening the wind is restless.
I look at the swaying branches and wonder at the greatness of all things.
70
O troupe of the little vagrants of the world, leave your <+++><{+++}> footprints in my words.
**22
71
I am like the road in the night listening to the footfalls of its memories in silence.
72
Woman, in your laughter you have the music of the fountain of life.
73
With the grace of your fingers you touched my things and order came out like music.
74
Power takes as ingratitude the writhings of its victims.
**23
75
You smiled and talked to me of nothing and for the first time I felt that for this I had been waiting long.
76
The sunshine greets me with a smile<+++>
O rain, his {sad} sister, you talk to my heart.
77
Be still, my heart, these {great} trees are prayers.
78
Timid thoughts, do not be afraid of me.
I am a poet.
**24
79
The <g>{G}reat is born as a child;
When he dies he gives his great childhood to the world.
80
I feel thy <great> beauty, dark night, like that of the loved woman when she has put<s> out the lamp.
81
The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.
82
The scabbard is content to be dull when it protects the keenness of the sword.
**25
83
“How far are you from me, O Fruit?”
“I am hidden in your heart, O Flower?”
84
“What language is <+++> thine, O Sea?’
“<It is> {“}<t>{T}he language of eternal question.”
“What language is <this is which thou answerest,> {the answer +++} O Sky?”
“<It is> {“}<t>{T}he language of Eternal Silence.”
85
The bow whispers to the arrow before it speeds forth— “Your freedom is mine.”
**26
86
The world has kissed my soul with its pain, asking for its return in songs.
87
God expects answers for the flowers he sends us, not for the sun and the earth.
88
Her wistful face haunts my dreams like the <+++>patter of rain at night.
89
Rockets, your insult to the stars follows yourself back to the earth.
**27
90
Storm of <the> midnight like a giant child awakened in the <night> {untimely dark,} <you> ha<ve>{s} began to play and shout.
91
Sit still my heart! do not raise your dust.
Let the world find its way to you.
92
The mist is like the earth’s desire.
It hides the sun for whom she cries.
93
The storm seeks the shortest road by the no-road, and suddenly ends its search in the Nowhere.
**28
94
<t>{T}he little flower lies in the dust.
It sought the path of the butterfly.
95
Shadow, with her veil drawn, follows
<l>{L}ight in secret, with her silent steps of love.
96
The <lame and mute> sa<+++>ds in <your> <{the}> {your} way<side> beg for your song and your movement, dancing water. Will you carry the burden of their lameness?
97
Do not insult your friend by lending him merits from your own <+++> {pocket.}
**29
98
What is this unseen flame of darkness whose sparks are the stars?
99
The grass <in her> loves and seeks her crowd in the earth.
The tree in <+++> his thoughts <seeks> {has} the solitude of the sky.
100
The trees, like the longings of the earth stands atiptoe to peep at the heaven.
<101
Facts <are misers, they donot give> {do not fit truth, therefore} she seeks <the full truth> fiction.>
**30
101
Truth in her dress finds facts too tight.
In fiction she moves with ease.
102
In my solitude of heart I feel the sigh of this widowed evening veiled with mist and rain.
103
O Beauty, find thyself in love, not in the flattery of thy mirror.
104
Do not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high.
**31
105
“In the moon thou sendest thy love letters to me,” said the night to the sun,
“I leave my answers in the dew upon the grass.”
106
The <rose> {sunflower} blushed to own the nameless flower as her kin.
The sun rose and smiled on it saying, “Are you well, my darling?”
107
<+++> Night’s darkness is a bag that bursts with the gold of the dawn.
**32
108
Where is the fountain that throws up these flowers in a ceaseless flow?
109
The bird thinks it is an act of kindness to give the fish a lift in the air.
1<0>{1}0
The music of the far away <days> {summer} flutters around the <Present> {autumn} seeking its former zest.
<111
The wine while passing from one cup to another loses its wealth of foam.>
**33
111
Take my wine in my own cup, friend.
It loses its wreath of foam when poured into that of others.
112
I hear some rustle of things behind my sadness of heart,— I cannot see them.
113
The light that plays, like a naked child, among the green leaves happily knows not that man can lie.
114
Man barricades against himself.
**34
115
God grows weary of great kinndoms, but never of little flowers.
116
My sad thoughts tease me asking me their {own} names.
117
The night’s silence, like a deep lamp, is burning with the light of its milky way.
118
They hated and killed and men praised them. But God in shame hastens to hide its memory under the green grass.
**35
119
Wrong cannot afford defeat but <r>{R}ight can.
120
{The dim silence of} My mind <+++> <silence> seems filled with crickets chirp— the grey twilight of sound.
121
Through the sadness of all things I hear the crooning of the Eternal Mother.
121
God’s right hand is gentle but terrible is his left hand.
**36
122
I have my stars in the sky, but Oh for my little lamp unlit in my house!
123
When the sun goes down to the west, the east of his morning stands before him in silence.
124
The sadness of my soul is her bride’s veil,
It waits to be lifted in the night.
125
Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man.
**37
126
Donot say, “It is morning” and dismiss it with a name of yesterday.
See it for the first time as a new-born child that has no name.
127
The evening sky ৲to me৲ ৴is৴ like a window, and a lighted lamp, and a waiting behind it.
128
The touch of the namelessness days clings to my heart like mosses <+++>round the old tree.
**38
129
It is the little things that I leave behind for my loved ones,— great things are for everyone.
130
The night kisses the fading day whispering to his ear<s>,
“I am death, your mother. I am to give you freash birth.”
131
Is not this mountain like a flower, with its petals of hills, drinking the sunlight.
132
The fountain of death makes the still water of life play.
**39
133
In the dusk of the evening the bird of some early dawn comes to the nest of my silence. ±{comes to roost in?}±
134
My heart is homesick today for the one sweet hour across the sea of time.
135
I donot ask thee into the house.
Come into my infinite loneliness, my Lover!
**40
136
I am in the world of {the} roads.
The night comes. Open thy gate, thou world of {the} home!
137
The dust of the dead words cling{s} to thee.
Wash thy soul with silence.
138
His <n+++> own mornings are new surprises to God.
139
The day of work is done. Hide my face in your arms, Mother.
Let me dream.
**41
140
Thou hast led me through my crowded travels of the day to my evening’s loneliness.
I want for its meaning through the <dark> {stillness} of the night.
141
Those who have everything but thee, my God, laugh at <them> {those} who have nothing but thyself.
142
I am a child in the dark.
I stretch my hands through the {coverlet of} night for thee, Mother!
**42
143
One word keep for me in thy silence, O world, when I am dead, “I have loved.”
144
My wishes are fools, they shout across thy songs, my Master!
Let me but listen.
145
This {is} a dream in which things are all loose and they oppress.
I shall find them {gathered} in thee when I <wake> {awake} <+++> and shall be free.
**43
146
I cast my shadow upon my path because I <have> {carry} a lamp that has not been lighted.
147
Let me not put myself wrongly to my world and set it against me.
148
I spill water from my water jar as I walk on my way. Very little remains for my home.
149
Light <for> in my heart <+++> the evening star of rest and the {let} the nigt <of love> whisper to me of love.
**44
150
My evening came among the alien trees and spoke in a language which my morning stars did not know.
151
The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth.
152
I live in this little world of mine and am afraid to make it the <+++>st less. lift me into thy world <and> {and} <let me lose my all and gain these so that I may> {let me} have the freedom <+++> gladly to lose my all.
**45
153
The sun goes to cross the western sea leaving its last salutation to the east.
154
Woman, thou <hast> {hast} enriched <+++> the world’s heart with the depth of thy tears as the sea has the earth.
155
The world rushes on over the strings of the lingering heart making the music of sadness.
**46
156
<We wake up from our dreams> {Once we on dreamt that we} <are> {were} stranger {We woke up.} to find that we <are> {were} dear to each other.
157
<Our lotus blooms here
but <+++> {in another} +++ same
Our lotus +++ here
under the distant sky
but> {The same lotus of our clime blooms here with the same sweetness only} in another name.
158
Your smile was <like that of> the flowers of your own fields, your talk was <like that of the +++ of your own mountain> {the rustle of your own mountain} but your heart was <+++> the woman that we all know.
**47
<159
When I go everywhere and not somewhere then I {shall} win the road for my bride forever.>
<160> 159
When I travelled <for> {to} <+++> here and to <+++> there I was tired of thee O Road, but now <that +++ taken thee for my +++ me {to} everywhere> {when thou leadest me to everywhere <I love +++> I am wedded to thee in love.}
160
My heart <has beaten its> {beats her} waves at the shore of the <things around it {+++}> {world} and <written> {writes} upon it her signature in tears with the word, <“I love thee my world”> “I love thee.”
**48
161
Your voice, my friend, wanders in my heart, like the muffled so<+++>{u}<+++>{n}<+++>{d} of the sea among these <silent> {listening} pines.
162
I feel <your +++> {the silence of your great <dreams> {thoughts}}
<+++>
{many a deepening eventide <i>{o}n this beach
When I listen to these waves.}
<+++>
**49
<+++>
16<+++>{3}
Never be afraid of the moments— thus sings the voice of the everlasting.
16<+++>{4}
I have dipped the vessel of my heart into this silent hour; it has filled with love.
165
Around the sunny island of <+++> life swells day and night death’s limitless song of the sea.
**50
166
The trembling leaves of this tree touch my heart like the fingers of an infant child.
167
<+++ were {like} the evening bird who sits alone and s<a>{i}ng{s} <+++> of the sun rise in the east where the crows clamour<ed> who have no songs in +++ hearts
You +++ a lonely snow-capped hill felt>
{Your great heart shone with <the glory of> the sunrise <+++>{of} the east like the snowy summit of a lonely hill in the dawn.
**51
168
The <+++> {earth} hums to me today in the sun, like a woman at her spinning, some <song> {ballad} of the ancient <+++> {times} in a forgotten tongue.
169
My heart longs to carress this green world of the sunny day with its lapping waves of song.
170
My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the <shore> {beach}, listening to the dance music of the tide in the evening.
**52
171
Let my doing nothing when I have nothing to do become untroubled in its depth of peace like the evening in the seashore when the <waves are> {water is <+++> <+++>} silent.
172
I have learnt the simple meaning of thy whispers in flowers and sunshine- teach me know thy words in pain and death.
173
I thank thee that I am none of the wheels of <+++> power, but I am one with the <+++> {living} creatures that are crushed by it.
**53
174
I have sung the songs of thy day.
In the evening let me <guard> {carry} thy lamp through the stormy path.
175
<Let them rule this world who would; let us enjoy its love it and enjoy.>
When you move about in your household service your limbs sing like a hill stream among its pebbles.
**54
176
I think of other <days> {ages} that <floated +++> <{+++}> {drifts on} the stream of life and love and death and are forgotten and I feel the {great} freedom of passing away.
177
Thy thoughts shimmer with the{se} shimmering leaves and my heart sings with the touch of the{s} sunlight; my life is glad to be floating with all things into the blue of space, into the dark of time.
**55
To
Admiral Habayama
I have seen your rocks,
I have seen your sea,
I have seen you and I know the strength of Japan.
The service of the fruit is precious, the service of the flowers is sweet, but the service of the <+++> leaves is great in its shade of humble devotion.
I have thanked the flame for its light, now I thank the lamp holder for its constancy of patience.
**56
The great earth has made herself hospitable with the help of her lowly grass.
The clouds that fill the watercups of the river remain <unkun> {unknown} among the distant hills.
The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the branches fruitful.
The <re> dust receives insult and in return offers <her> flowers
**57
I came to your shore as a stranger, I lived in your <home> {house} as a guest, I leave your doors <land> as a friend, my earth.
The real with its meaning read wrong and emphasis misplaced is the unreal
The world is the world of wild storms kept tame in music of beauty.
Do not <wait> {linger} to gather flowers, {to keep them, but walk on,} for flowers will <bloom for you all the way> keep themselves <in bloom> blooming all your way.
**58
That which ends in exhaustion is death but the perfect ending stops at endless.
Man is worse than an animal when he is an animal.
Dark clouds become heaven’s flowers when kissed by light.
Let life be beautiful like <+++> summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.
Let not the sword blade mock its handle for being blunt.
**59
The sun his <+++> {simple} robe of light. The clouds are decked with gorgeousness.
Do not blame your food because you have no appetite.
Our desire lends the colours of the rainbow to things that are mere vapour.
Set the bird’s wings with gold and gems and it will no<t> longer soar in the sky.
By plucking her petals you donot gather the beauty of the flower.
**60
By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.
The life is given to us, we earn it by giving it.
Make me thy cup and let my fullness be for thee and for thine.
Silence will carry your voice like the nest that holds the sleeping birds.
The lamp of meeting bu<+++>{r}n{s} long{;} it goes out in a moment at the parting.
**61
Like the meeting of the seagulls and the waves we meet <heart to heart.> {and come near.} The seagulls fly off the waves roll away and we depart.
This life is the crossing of a sea, where we meet in the same narrow ship.
In death we reach the shore and go to different worlds.
{To the Captain of S. S. Cone+++maru}
You love your sword and the sea, for you love freedom and her stormy music of danger
**62
Our names are like the phosphorescence that flashes out on the waves at night and then dies without leaving its signature.
<Let my thoughts come to you, my friend, {when I am gone,} like the afterglow of <the> sunset at the margin of night.>
Let my thoughts come to you, when I am gone, like the afterglow of sunset at the margin of starry silence.
**63
<Shouts merely increase<s> the noise of the market, & port. Let your music, like a sword, pierce it to its heart.>
Some unseen fingers, {like an idle breeze} are <+++> playing upon my heart the music of the ripples.
Listen, {my heart} to the whispers of the world <in> {with} which it makes love to <+++> you.
<+++ in the +++surprise that +++>
**64
That I exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.
The mystery of <+++> creation is like the darkness of night— it is great. Delusions of knowledge <+++> {are} like the fog of the morning.
Darkness travels towards light but blindness towards death.
<God comes to them as {a} stranger{s} who hate strangers.> <+++>
Man’s history is waiting in patience for the triumph of the insulted man.
**65
I feel thy gaze upon my heart this momenrt like the sunny silence of the morning upon the lonely <meadowland> field whose harvest is over.
<My heart> {I} Long<+++> for the <{+++} {+++} +++>} for the <i>{I}sland of <s>{S}ongs across thi{s} heaving <s>{S}ea of <s>{S}houts.
The prelude of the night {is commenced} in the music of the sunset, in its solemn hymn to the ineffable dark.
I have scaled the peak <off +++ the> and found no shelter in <+++> {+++} bleak and barren <+++> height <{of +++}>. Lead me,
**66
my Guide, before the light fades, into the valley of +++, where <+++> {life’s} harvest mellows into golden wisdom.
Things look <strange> <{+++}> {phantastic} in this dimness of the dusk— <some> the spires whose bases are lost in the dark and the tops like blots of ink. I shall wait for the morning and <+++> wake up to see thy city in the light.
I have suffered and despaired and known death and I am glad that I am in this great world.
There are tracts in my life that are bare and silent. They are the open spaces from where my busy days had their light & air.
**67
Realese me from my unfulfilled past clinging to me from behind making death difficult.
Let this be my last word that I trust in thy love.
Clouds come floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give colour to my sunset sky.
Truth raises <storm> against itself {the storm} that scatters seeds of broadcast.
The storm of the last night has crowned this morning with golden peace.
**68
Truth seems to come with its <last> {final} word.<With it +++> <{and that last word +++}> {and the final word gives birth} to its next{.}— <for it is +++>
<If you must walk the path of truth do not try to gain praise, when it comes do not try to keep it, when it remains do not hang it on your breast as {a} decoration.>
Blessed is he whose fame does not outshine his truth.
Sweetness of thy name fills my heart when I forget mine— <+++> like thy morning sun when the mist is melted.
**69
<+++> {The silent} night has the beauty of the <{silent}> mother and the {clamorous} day of the <child clamorous> child.
<Forget to whom you {have to} speak but never forget what you have to say.>
The world loved man when he smiled. The world became afraid of him when he laughed.
God waits for man to regain his childhood in wisdom.
Let me feel this world as thy love taking form, then my love will help it.
**70
Thy sunshine smiles upon the winter days of my heart, never doubting {of} its spring flowers.
God kisses the finite in his love and men the infinite.
Thou crossest desert lands of barren <days> {years} to reach the moment of fulfilment.
God’s silence ripens man’s thoughts into speech.
Thou wilt find, Eternal Traveller<+++> marks of thy footsteps <lingering in +++> across my songs.
**71
Let me not shame thee, Father, who displayest thy glory in thy children.
<Cheerless is the day, the light is smothered with <its> heavy clouds and the cry of the wind is like the cry of wounded world— but I know I am going to {meet} my Friend.>
Cheerless is the day, the the light under frowning clouds is like a punished child with traces of tears in its pale chicks, and the cry of the wind is like the cry of a wounded world. But I know I am travelling to meet my Friend.
