1984 (16/10/1984) K

BOLE THÁKO BHÁLOBÁSI
KÁJE PRAMÁŃA NÁ PÁOÁ JÁYA

PHÚLER VANE KÁNT́Á KENO PÁPŔI
JHARE JÁY JE KOTHÁYA
KÁJE PRAMÁŃA NÁ PÁOÁ JÁYA

KAOMUDI CÁNDERI CHAT́Á
D́HÁKE KÁLO GHANA GHAT́Á
VANA HARIŃIIRA MÁYÁ ÁNKHIR
PASHCÁTE NIŚÁDA KENO DHÁYA
KÁJE PRAMÁŃA NÁ PÁOÁ JÁYA

PRÁŃERA ABHIVYAKTI MÁJHE
KÁLERA CHÁYÁ KENO NÁCE
MAN MÁTÁNO COKHA JUŔÁNO
INDRA DHANU KOTHÁY MILÁY
KÁJE PRAMÁŃA NÁ PÁOÁ JÁYA

BOLE THÁKO BHÁLOBÁSI
KÁJE PRAMÁŃA NÁ PÁOÁ JÁYA

You say that You are love,
but I do not find its proof in actual life.

Why are there thorns in the floral garden?
Why do petals whither away?
The dense and dark clouds
cover the beauty of the moonlight.

Why does the hunter rush,
with delusive visions
after the wild deer?

In life's expressions,
why does the dark shadow of time (death) dance?
And to where
does the charming and intoxicating rainbow vanish?