PHÚLER VANE ÁNAMANE
PARII EK ESECHILO
MADHUR KHONJE PÁPŔI MÁJHE
SÁRÁ DIN GHURE CHILO
PARII EK ESECHILO
PÁPŔI THÁKILEI THÁKE NÁ MADHU
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
PÁPŔI THÁKILEI THÁKE NÁ MADHU
ÁKÁSHA THÁKILEI THÁKE NÁ VIDHU
PÁPŔI CAIBE MOR MADHU THÁKUK
MADHU BOLABE MOR PÁPŔI BHÁLO
PARII EK ESECHILO
PHÚLER SAUNGE PARIIRA EI PARICAYA
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
PHÚLER SAUNGE PARIIRA EI PARICAYA
SHÁSHVATA KÁLER E ÁJKERA NAYA
EKE BHÁLOBÁSE ANYA KE
PHÚLER T́ÁNE PARII ESECHILO
PARII EK ESECHILO
PHÚLER VANE ÁNAMANE
PARII EK ESECHILO
Into the floral garden,
unmindfully,
an angel has come.
Searching honey in the petals,
it has roamed about the whole day.
Though petals are there, there is no honey.
Though the sky is there, there is no moon.
The petals want their honey in them.
The honey says 'my petals are good'.
This mutual introducing one another of petals and angel
is not of today.
It is of time immemorial.
One loves the other.
And thus,
at the flowers' pull,
the angel has come.