ÁMÁR E DRÁKŚÁ KUINJE
GUCCHE GUCCHE
DHARIYÁCHE ÁJ PHAL
KE NIVI ÁY D́ÁKCHI SABÁY
DVÁRE NÁHI ÁGALA
DHARIYÁCHE ÁJ PHAL
JATANE RACÁ E LATÁ ÁMÁR
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
JATANE RACÁ E LATÁ ÁMÁR
ANEK GIITIR (PRIITIR)? EK SAMÁHÁR
PHÚL KÁNANE SAḾGOPANE
PRÁŃIINATÁY UCCHALA
DHARIYÁCHE ÁJ PHAL
KÚNŔI ÁCHE PHULO ÁCHE.
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
KÚNŔI ÁCHE PHULO ÁCHE.
RÁGER PRIITI MISHE RAYECHE
CHANDE TÁLEDODUL DOLE
BHÁLOBÁSÁY CAINCALA
DHARIYÁCHE ÁJ PHAL
ÁMÁR E DRÁKŚÁ KUINJE
GUCCHE GUCCHE
DHARIYÁCHE ÁJ PHAL
In the vine yard of mine, bunches and bunches of fruits have appeared. Who would come, I
call all, the door is not closed. Carefully nurtured this creeper of mine, is a single
congregation of many loving songs. In the floral garden, secretly, liveliness has
overflooded. There are buds and also the flowers, in that affectionate love is mixed.
Oscillating on the swings with rhythm and beats, they are restless with love.