3797 (08/10/1986) D


ÁJI BAKUL SUVÁSE
ÁJI BAKUL SUVÁSE CAETRA VÁTÁSE

KI JÁNI PARÁŃ KÁRE CÁY
MADIR MÁYÁY DÚR ALAKÁY
KÁR PÁNE BÁRE BÁRE CÁY
KI JÁNI PARÁŃ KÁRE CÁY
TRILOKE RAYECHE JATA VYATHÁ BHÁR
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
TRILOKE RAYECHE JATA VYATHÁ BHÁR
JATA HATAMÁN KLESHA SAMBHÁR
PRÁNER JOÁRE UDDEL NIIRE
BHÁSÁIÁ DÁO SHATA DHÁY

KI JÁNI PARÁŃ KÁRE CÁY
DÚR KE NIKAT́E T́ENE ÁNO ÁJI
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
DÚR KE NIKAT́E T́ENE ÁNO ÁJI
SHONO DUNDUBHI NABHE BÁJI
MATTA HAOÁY MERU MEKHALÁY
EGIYE CALO BINÁ DVIDHÁY

KI JÁNI PARÁŃ KÁRE CÁY
ÁJI BAKUL SUVÁSE
ÁJI BAKUL SUVÁSE CAETRA VÁTÁSE







Today, amidst the fragrance of bakul flowers,
and the chaetra season’s breeze,
I do not know whom my heart wants.

In intoxicating delusion,
again and again,
towards whom it looks in heaven?

All the load of pain existing in the three spheres,
all the burden of dishonouring agonies,
by the overwhelming waters of the tide of liveliness,
You washed away in hundreds of flows.

Today, bring the far ones close!
Listen! The drum is sounding in the sky.
The frenzied wind from the mountain range
blows without hesitation.