ÁSBE BOLE GIYE CHILE
SE KATHÁ BHÚLE RAILE KENO
MANER MAYUR BHÁVER NÚPUR
TOMÁRE BHEVE NÁCACHE JENO
SE KATHÁ BHÚLE RAILE KENO
CIKUR KEUR DHÚLOY LOT́ÁY
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
CIKUR KEUR DHÚLOY LOT́ÁY
TOMÁR PRIITIR PARASH JE CÁY
ASTA RAVIR RAKTIMÁBHÁY
SVAPANE TÁDER KENO NÁ T́ÁNO
SE KATHÁ BHÚLE RAILE KENO
HE PRÁŃA PURUŚA PRIYA SABÁR
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
HE PRÁŃA PURUŚA PRIYA SABÁR
ÁDI MADHYA ANTE APÁR
SABÁR ÁDHÁR NIJE NIRÁDHÁR
AŃUR ANURODHA EKT́U SHOŃO
SE KATHÁ BHÚLE RAILE KENO
ÁSBE BOLE GIYE CHILE
SE KATHÁ BHÚLE RAILE KENO
O Lord, You had told to return, why have You forgotten that matter. The mental peacock
ideating on You, with tinkling of anklebell and feelings, dances. The chignon ornament
merging with dust, wants the touch of Your love. With the red glow of sunset, why do not
You pull them close? O The Purus’a of life, Dear to all, unlimited in beginning, middle
and the end, You are base of all, though remaining without any foundation, listen to the
one prayer of the microcosm.