ÁKÁSHE SHÚNYE BHESE
PSARÁRÁ, KON SE DESHE JÁY
MANERI MAŃIKOT́HÁY SUR JHARIYE
KENO DOLÁ DEYA
KON SE DESHE JÁY
BHÁSE SE KISER ÁSHÁY
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
BHÁSE SE KISER ÁSHÁY
KE JÁNE KÁR IISHÁRÁY
KON ÁLO LÁGALO BHÁLO
JÁRE SE PARÁŃ BHARE CÁY
KON SE DESHE JÁY
KE GO SE DÚRER PRIYA
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
KE GO SE DÚRER PRIYA
SUDÚREO ÁKARŚAŃIIYA
SE SUDHÁ EI VASUDHÁ
NITE GIYE NIJEKE HÁRÁYA
KON SE DESHE JÁY
D́ÁKE NÁ KENO KÁCHE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
D́ÁKE NÁ KENO KÁCHE
KENO SE DÚRE RAYECHE
DÚRER PRIYA HIYÁY NIO
MANERI MAŃI MAINJÚŚÁYA
KON SE DESHE JÁY
ÁKÁSHE SHÚNYE BHESE
APSARÁRÁ, KON SE DESHE JÁY
In the void of the sky, angels are soaring.
Which place are they flying to?
A fountain of melodies flows in my mental casket.
Why do these oscillations arise?
Who knows with what expectation they float?
By whose inspiration and guide?
Which brilliance are they moving towards,
seducing them so overwhelmingly?
Who is their Beloved at a distance,
attracting them from afar?
Entranced, they have fetched nectar from the earth.
Why does He not call me close to Him?
Why does He stay far away?
That distant Beloved has captured my heart.