JABE EI PATH DIYE TUMI ESECHILE
VIITHIKÁ PUŚPE BHARÁ CHILO
GANDHETE MAN METE UT́HECHILO
GIITIKÁR DHÁRÁ BHESE CHILO
VIITHIKÁ PUŚPE BHARÁ CHILO
SE BAKUL VIITHI ÁJO PAŔE ÁCHE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
SE BAKUL VIITHI ÁJO PAŔE ÁCHE
JHARÁ PHÚL DAL DHULÁY MISHECHE
GANDHA KOTHÁY UBIÁ GIÁCHE
SABE BHÚLE GECHE KI BÁ CHILO
VIITHIKÁ PUŚPE BHARÁ CHILO
BAKUL TARURÁ ÁJAO BENCE ÁCHE
ITIHÁS NIYE KÁNDIÁ CALECHE
JALE BHEJÁ VIITHI GÁIÁ CALECHE
EKO NEI KEU NÁ RAHILO
VIITHIKÁ PUŚPE BHARÁ CHILO
JABE EI PATH DIYE TUMI ESECHILE
VIITHIKÁ PUŚPE BHARÁ CHILO
When You came,
the lane on the path of Your arrival
was covered with bakul flowers.
Amidst intoxicating fragrance
a flow of songs emerged.
That lane still remains.
But the flower petals have now mixed with dust.
All fragrance has disappeared.
And what was once there has been forgotten.
The bakul tree still survives.
It weeps,
carrying within the history of that event.
On the tear filled lane
are heard songs of solitude.