PHÚLER MÁLIKÁ SHUKHÁIÁ GECHE
PÁPAŔI JHARIYÁ GECHE TÁR
TÁR E ITIKATHÁ KEU KI SHOŃE NI
KARENIKO KONO PRATIKÁR
PÁPAŔI JHARIYÁ GECHE TÁR
SAYATANE TOLÁ PHÚL GULI CHILO
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
SAYATANE TOLÁ PHÚL GULI CHILO
SUŚAMÁ SUVÁSE CHILO UCCHALA
BHÁVE O MADHUTE CHILO UDDVEL
KEU KI DEKHENI E DHARÁR
PÁPAŔI JHARIYÁ GECHE TÁR
SABÁR ALAKHE JHARIYÁ PAŔECHE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
SABÁR ALAKHE JHARIÁ PAŔECHE
SABÁR CARAŃE VINATI KARECHE
SHOŃO MOR KATHÁ BOJHO MOR VYATHÁ
BHÚLIO NÁ BHEVE BOJHÁ BHÁR
PÁPAŔI JHARIYÁ GECHE TÁR
PHÚLER MÁLIKÁ SHUKHÁIÁ GECHE
PÁPAŔI JHARIYÁ GECHE TÁR
The floral garland has dried up.
Its petals have withered away.
No one heard of their history.
Nor was any remedy provided.
These flowers had been carefully lifted.
Their beauty and fragrance had been overwhelming,
containing feelings and sweetness,
But on earth there was no witness to it.
The garland fell down,
unseen by all,
as if praying before all feet.
Listen to my talk and understand my agony.
Do not ignore me.
Do not think that it is too difficult to understand.