8 The Bengali Poem , Candi. 
All others keep the winter cold at hay, 
And only I must bear it as I may. 
I buy an old torn mat * with venison; 
Its dust is smothering when I put it on ; 
Ah! surely fate to women is unjust! 
I scarce can close my eyes at night for dust ! 
Then Magh (10) is dreadful with its fogs and mists ; 
Let the poor hunter wander where he lists, 
He finds no deer to catch, for sale or food; 
Nor find I herbs to gather in the wood. 
Oh Magh’s a piteous month for hunting men; 
No one wants flesh, for all are fasting then. 
Phalgun (11) makes most fall ill; but as for me, 
How could I tell you half my misery ? 
Fierce is the cold; I pawn in sheer despair, 
For refuse rice, my stone and earthenware; 
My plates and dishes I must all resign ! 
Oh what a miserable lot is mine ! 
I dig yon hole i’ the ground, and when I sup 
Pour the rice gruel in and lap it up! 
In Caitra’s (12) month the soft south breezes blow, 
In the sweet jasmine flowers the bees hum low; 
And with the spring’s soft influence in their heart 
Maidens and youths are lovesick, though apart; 
All joy save me, but I for some old sin 
Must think of hunger’s ravening pangs within.” 
The stranger heard to th’ end, then said at last: 
“ From this day forth these woes of yours are past! 
Think of them as a something now no more, 
Henceforth you share in all my ample store! ” 
Her face all soiled with grief and jealous fears, 
Poor Phullara poured a passionate burst of tears; 
In sudden frenzy from her door she fled, 
And in wild haste to Golahat she sped, 
And found the hunter, who in strange surprise 
Stared at her broken voice and streaming eyes: 
* The Jchosald is a coarse mat used by the poor to sleep on, and sometimes also worn for 
clothing in cold weather. 
