Long I have been a wanderer of this world.
Many a night
My route lay across the sea of Ceylon somewhere winding to
The ocean of malay.
I was in the dim world of Vimvisar and Asok, and further off
In the mistiness of Vidarbha
At moments when life was too much a sea of sounds-
I had Banalata Sen of Natore and her wisdom.

I remember her hair dark as nights at Vidisha,
Her face : image of Sravasti; the pilot
Undone in the blue milieu of the sea
Never twice sees the earth of grass before him.
I have also seen her Banalata Sen of Natore.

When day is done, no fall somewhere but of dews
Dips into the dusk: the smell of the sun is gone
Off the kestrel's wings. Light is your wit now
Fanning fireflies that pitch the wide things around.
For Banalata Sen of Natore.