O Business World!

The list is prepared:
The list of the things no one can take away —
Not even from a banished clerk.

Ordinary life in this great house: the Earth —
In which I have my portion, my own corner;
And while I live, to lift my eyes to the dawn;
When cool winds blow, to feel them on my cheek;
Cold water in pitchers, music, an eye for books,
And rain, the sudden shower that cools hot noon;
My love for my own dear ones;
And my hope, shot through with memories, to go back to Bengal.

O business world! Drive me away you may
But in my heart I hold
The immemorial joy of former lives,
Linked with the shade of ancient trees,
The courtyard tulsi flowers, the ruined temple by the river
And the bliss of speaking my own tongue;
The sight from my third-class seat in the train
Of the granary filled with grain; the banana grove,
And the path to the grass-thatched hut;
The cloudy sky, the rail-side ponds and the green hyacinths.
The waters of the Ganges at the flood; the neem-tree-shaded avenue . . .
But these, alas, are visions of my way back home by train.

O gracious woodland,
Silent witness of centuries,
Beautiful with the imprint of the mind,
To you I say:
This banishment itself
Has brought the very joy of being alive
Closer than ever.