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190 (10/01/1983) D


CAMPAK VANE HÁRÁYE PHELECHI
ÁMÁR KAVITÁ KHÁNI
SAORABHE HÁR MÁMI
SAORABHE HÁR MÁMI

CAMPAK VANE HÁRÁYE PHELECHI
BHIITARE NÁ CÁHI BÁHIRE CALECHI
SHUNI NI TOMÁR VÁŃII
SAORABHE HÁR MÁMI
SAORABHE HÁR MÁMI

CAMPAK VANE HÁRÁYE PHELECHI
JATA CHILO VYATHÁ MARMETE GÁNTHÁ
JATA CHILO KATHÁ HÁRÁYE GECHE TÁ
KÁR SURABHITE E VIVARTAN
BUJHEO BUJHITE PÁRI NI
SAORABHE HÁR MÁMI
SAORABHE HÁR MÁMI

CAMPAK VANE HÁRÁYE PHELECHI
ÁMÁR KAVITÁ ÁMÁR GIITIKÁ
ÁMÁR NAHE TÁ JÁNI
SAORABHE HÁR MÁNI
SAORABHE HÁR MÁNI


I have lost my poem in the gardenia grove.
I concede defeat to the aroma of the gardenia.

Instead of diving within,
I am moving about externally.
I did not respect Your advice.

All pains embedded in the cave of my heart,
all unspoken words,
have vanished.

I cannot understand
whose fragrance brought about this transformation.

But I know,
my poems, my songs,
are not my own.









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