TUMI JAKHAN ESE CHILE
ÁMRA MUKULE MADHU CHILO
BELÁ JUTHIKÁ KHUSHIIR CHALE
SUVÁS D́HELE DITE CHILO
ÁMRA MUKULE MADHU CHILO
ABUJH HAOÁ KÁCHE ESE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
ABUJH HAOÁ KÁCHE ESE
KAYE CHILO KÁŃER PÁSHE
CHANDE GÁNE TÁLE NÁCE
PRIITIR KAŃÁ BHESE CHILO
ÁMRA MUKULE MADHU CHILO
SE KATHÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁJ SMRITIR TÁRE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
SE KATHÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁJ SMRITIR TÁRE
BHESE BEŔÁY BHUVAN BHARE
MANER KOŃE CUPI SÁRE
VASANTA RÁGE CAINCALO
ÁMRA MUKULE MADHU CHILO
TUMI JAKHAN ESE CHILE
ÁMRA MUKULE MADHU CHILO
O Lord, when You had come, there was honey in the mango buds. The bela’ and juhi
flowers, deluded with joy, had poured fragrance. The ignorant wind, coming close, spoke
close to the ears. Within rhythm, beats, dance and songs, particles of love floated. That
event today, along the strings of memories, goes on floating filling the whole world
vibrant with the melody of spring in the recess of the mind secretly.