ÁKÁSHA D́ÁKIYÁ JÁY
NIILIMÁR KOŃE KOŃE
VÁTÁS MADHUKŚARAY
MANANER PRATI KŚAŃE
NIILIMÁR KOŃE KOŃE
PRABHÁT ÁLOKE JE RÚPA DEKHE JÁI
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
PRABHÁT ÁLOKE JE RÚPA DEKHE JÁI
SANDHYÁR RAKTA RÁGE TÁRE NÁHI PÁI
PALE PALE NAVA NAVA VICITRA ANUBHAVA
BHUVANER MANE MANE
NIILIMÁR KOŃE KOŃE
SHUŚKA NIDÁGHE PRAKRITIRE JÁ DEKHI
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
SHUŚKA NIDÁGHE PRAKRITIRE JÁ DEKHI
SHARATER SÁDÁ MEGHE SE THÁKE NÁKI
SHIITER JAD́ATÁY JE TARU SHOBHÁ HÁRÁY
SEO PHIRE PÁY PHÁGUNER ÁGAMANE
NIILIMÁR KOŃE KOŃE
ÁKÁSHA D́ÁKIYÁ JÁY
NIILIMÁR KOŃE KOŃE
The sky keeps calling, from all its corners.
The air percolates honey into the wind each moment.
The beauty that I see in the morning light
is different from that which I see in the evening’s red colour.
Each moment ever new feelings arise in every mind of this world.
Under the dry and hot sun, what I see in nature,
does not look the same under the white clouds of autumn.
The tree that loses its beauty during the inertia of winter
reattains it with the arrival of spring.