JEONÁ, EKT́U THÁKO
MOR ÁRO KATHÁ ÁCHE BÁKI
MENO NÁ ÁMÁR KATHÁ
SHUNE JETE ÁCHE KŚATI KII
MOR ÁRO KATHÁ ÁCHE BÁKI
PHÚL, KENO JHARE JÁY
PRIITI MÁLÁ KENO SHUKÁY
KENO JE DOLÁ JÁGÁY
E BHÁVANÁ RÁKHI D́HÁKII
MOR ÁRO KATHÁ ÁCHE BÁKI
HIME KAMAL NÁ HÁSE
MAINJULA NIILÁKÁSHE
BALÁKÁ BHÁSE KII ÁSHE D́ÁKI
MOR ÁRO KATHÁ ÁCHE BÁKI
JEONÁ, EKT́U THÁKO
MOR ÁRO KATHÁ ÁCHE BÁKI
Do not go away,
stay for a while,
I have more to say.
You may not accept my words,
but what do You lose in listening to them?
Why do flowers wither away?
Why does the garland of love dry up?
Why are thoughts, kept covered, awakened with swing?
The night jasmine comes in winter.
The lotus does not bloom in the snow.
In the beautiful blue sky,
with what hope,
does the swan glide and call?