(jodi hayi-jeebon puron nai holo momo tobo okripon kore)
Alas if my life is not fulfilled by your compassionate hand
My mind still knows
In a twinkle your light-shadow-drawn picture in my mind
If thin-river of mid-summer not receiving gift of high wave
Yet offering still its receding gifts along its shrunken bank
As the thirty-soul taking gifts
In my collection of fearful desires
Whatever I get stays overflowing
Carefully preserving day’s-receding-gifts for night-dream
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