RÚPA SÁYARERA ÁNGINÁTE
ARÚPA TUMI ESE GELE
CHANDE SURE ÁPAN KARE
SABÁRE T́ÁNILE
ARÚPA TUMI ESE GELE
TÁRÁY TÁRÁY BHARÁ ÁKÁSHA
MANDA MADHUR BAHE VÁTÁS
HALKÁ HAOÁY DOLE JE KÁSHA
SÁDÁ PÁKHANÁ MELE
ARÚPA TUMI ESE GELE
TOMÁY JÁNÁ SAHAJA JE NAYA
PRIITI SHUDHU PÁY PARICAYA
MUKHARATÁ MÚK HOYE RAY
TOMÁY KÁCHE PELE
ARÚPA TUMI ESE GELE
RÚPA SÁYARERA ÁNGINÁTE
ARÚPA TUMI ESE GELE
O formless Lord,
into the world of the ocean of forms,
You descended.
With rhythm and melody,
You pulled all close
and made them Your own.
The sky is full of stars
and the breeze blowing sweetly and gently.
By the light wind,
the tall grass swings,
as white wings are spread.
It is not easy to know You.
Only by love can You be understood.
Finding You near,
all eloquence becomes dumb.