I shall return to this Bengal, to the Dhansiri’s bank
Perhaps not as a man, but mayna or fishing-kite;
Or dawn crow, floating on the mist’s bosom to alight
In the shade of this jackfruit tree, in this autumn harvest-land.
Or may be a duck- a young girl’s bells on my red feet,
Drifting on kalmi-scented waters all the day:
For love of Bengal’s rivers, fields, crops, I’ll come this way
To this sad green shore of Bengal, drenched by Jalangi’s waves
Perhaps you’ll see a glass-fly ride the evening breeze,
Or hear a barn owl call from the silk-cotton tree;
A little child toss rice-grains on the courtyard grass,
Or a boy on the Rupsa’s turgid stream steer a dinghy
With torn white sail – white egrets swimming through red clouds
To their home in the dark. You will find me among their crowd
