MÁDHAVII PHÁGUN SHEŚE
HAT́HÁT ESE
DOLÁ DIYE JÁYA
MANE JE ÁSHÁ CHILO BHÁŚÁ PELO
TÁRI PRERAŃÁYA
DOLÁ DIYE JÁYA
GUL BÁGIICÁYA NEIKO TÁR T́HÁIN
MAINJILETE KEU RÁKHE NÁI
BHOMRÁ MADHU KHONJE VRITHÁI
AKÁLE ABELÁYA
DOLÁ DIYE JÁYA
TÁR MANETEO MADHU ÁCHE
RÚPE RASE PAŔE UPACE
BHÁLOBESE JE JÁY KÁCHE
SEI JE TÁRE PÁYA
DOLÁ DIYE JÁYA
MÁDHAVII PHÁGUN SHEŚE
HAT́HÁT ESE,
DOLÁ DIYE JÁYA
Coming as a surprise,
that sweet spring,
finally began oscillating within.
The aspirations in the mind,
by His inspiration,
attained language.
His abode is not the floral garden.
No one keeps Him bound to a particular place.
The bee searches honey untimely and in vain.
In His mind sweetness abounds,
overflowing with beauty and delicacy.
He who goes there with love,
only he attains Him.