JE PHÚL HÁTE TULE MÁLÁY GENTHE CHILE
SE PHUL ÁJI KENO BHÚLE GELE
GUL BÁGE TAVA
GUL BÁGE TAVA CHILO SAORABHA
TÁHÁTE KÁNT́Á KENO PHELE DILE
SE PHUL ÁJI KENO BHÚLE GELE
JE MÁDHAVII LATÁ GÁNE KAHITO KATHÁ
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
JE MÁDHAVII LATÁ GÁNE KAHITO KATHÁ
JE APARÁJITÁ BHOLÁTO SAB VYATHÁ
TÁDER SABE CHEŔE CALE GELE DÚRE
SEI JE GELE PHIRE NÁHI ELE
SE PHUL ÁJI KENO BHÚLE GELE
MOR KANAK CÁMPÁ KUÁSHÁTE D́HÁKÁ
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
MOR KANAK CÁMPÁ KUÁSHÁTE D́HÁKÁ
ÁLO ÁNDHÁRE CÁPÁ MADHURIMÁ MÁKHÁ
TÁHÁR PÁNE CEYE KONO NÁ KATHÁ KAYE
KENO NIT́HUR HOYE GELE CHALE
SE PHUL ÁJI KENO BHÚLE GELE
JE PHÚL HÁTE TULE MÁLÁY GENTHE CHILE
SE PHUL ÁJI KENO BHÚLE GELE
O Lord, the flower that you lifted in hands and threaded garlands, that flower, why did
You forget? In Your floral garden, fragrance was there, into that, why did You scatter
thorns? The ma’dhavii creeper, told the fact with songs, the apara’jita’ creeper
made forget all sorrows, leaving all that You went far away, and never returned back. My
kanak campa’ flower is covered with fog, sweetness smeared illumination is suppressed
with darkness, looking at that, without telling a thing, You went deluding mercilessly?