ÁGUNERI PARASH NIYE
PHÁGUN ÁJI ESE CHE
SHOŃITA MÁJHE DOLÁ DIYE
NAVA RÁGE GÁN GEYECHE
PHÁGUN ÁJI ESE CHE
ÁGUNERI PARASH NIYE
PHÁGUN ÁJI ESE CHE
KISHALAYER RAKTIMÁBHÁ
KINSHUK ÁJI MANOLOBHÁ
ASHOKA KUNJE PUNJE PUNJE
ALI JAŔO HOYECHE
PHÁGUN ÁJI ESE CHE
ÁGUNERI PARASH NIYE
PHÁGUN ÁJI ESE CHE
MANER MÁJHE ÁJ KE
JÁGE RÁḾGIE DIE PHÁGUN PHÁGE
SÁT RAḾGERI AMBU DHÁRÁY
RAUNGA DHARIYE DIYECHE
PHÁGUN ÁJI ESE CHE
ÁGUNERI PARASH NIYE
PHÁGUN ÁJI ESE CHE
Bringing the touch of fire,
spring has come.
Creating vibrations in the blood,
it sings its song in a new tune.
The red colour of the bunches of new leaves
on the kinshuka tree
today charms in the ashoka groves.
The bees have become restless.
Who is He, arising in my mind,
colouring this festivity
in a seven coloured flow of water?
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Spring has come by giving a glimpse of warmth.
It sung a new melody, creating fresh vibrations in my blood.
Today the birds on the leaves and flowers
are charmingly chirping.
On the branches of the ashoka tree the bees are buzzing.
The colour of spring is arising in my mind.
It became coloured with all the seven colours.