4400 (19/07/1988) D


MÁLAINCE MOR PUINJE PUINJE PHUT́ECHE PÁRUL
KISER NESHÁY BHÁLOBÁSÁY DULCHE DODUL DUL
VIMÚŔHA MAN BUJHATE NÁ RE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ

VIMÚŔHA MAN BUJHATE NÁ RE
ELE TÁRÁ KÁHÁR TARE
KISER LÁGI THARE THARE
HÁSALO ETA MADHUL
MÁLAINCE MOR PUINJE PUINJE PÁRUL

CALACHE SABÁI BÁNDHÁ PATHE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
CALECHE SABÁI BÁNDHÁ PATHE
KÁJER JHONKE GATIR SHROTE
NAY NIRARTHAKA E JAGATE
CHOT́T́A PÁRUL PHUL.
MÁLAINCE MOR PUINJE PUINJE PÁRUL







In my garden, bunches and bunches of pa’rul flowers have bloomed. With what intoxication
and love, they oscillate on the swing? My dull mind does not understand, for whom they
have appeared. For Whom, layers by layers, so many madhul buds smiled. All move on the
destined path in the stream with momentum of movement. The small pa’rul flower is not
useless in the world.