MANE, MADHUP ÁJ KII KATHÁ KAYE
ESE NIRAJANE MOR PHÚLVANE
KÁNE KÁNE KII JENO SHONÁY
MADHUP ÁJ KII KATHÁ KAYE
TÁR TARE PHÚLE MADHU BHARIYÁCHI
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
TÁR TARE PHÚLE MADHU BHARIYÁCHI
TÁRI TARE SURE GÁN SÁDHIYÁCHI
TÁR PATHE ÁLPANÁ ÁNKIYÁCHI
SE DIKE NÁCÁY SE NIRDAY
MADHUP ÁJ KII KATHÁ KAYE
EKÁNTE ESE MAN MÁJHE MOR
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
EKÁNTE ESE MAN MÁJHE MOR
BOLE TAVA AMÁNISHÁ HOLO BHOR
ÁR JHARIO NÁ NAYAN AJHOR
PEYE GELE MOR PARICAY
MADHUP ÁJ KII KATHÁ KAYE
MANE, MADHUP ÁJ KII KATHÁ KAYE
What is the bee of my mind telling today?
Secretly coming into my floral garden,
whispering into my ears,
what is it saying?
For Him,
I fill the flower with honey.
For Him only,
I rehearse the melody of the song.
I decorate His path with paintings.
Yet that merciless one does not come.
Coming instead into my mind,
He says:
”Your dark night has been converted into morning.
Do not shed flows of tears anymore,
now that you have become acquainted with me.”