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3105 (02/09/1985) K


MOR MADHUMÁS,
MOR MADHUMÁS
MOR MADHUMÁS CALE JÁY
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ

KISHALAY PATRA HOLO
PATRA PARŃA HOYE,
DHULÁY NIHSHEŚE MISHÁY
MOR MADHUMÁS CALE JÁY

KOYEL ESE CHILO,
ÁÁ
KOYEL ESE CHILO,
GÁNE VÁN D́EKE CHILO
NIDÁGHER ÁGAMANE,
SE DHÁRÁ KOTHÁ HÁRÁY
MOR MADHUMÁS CALE JÁY

VÁTÁSE SUDHÁ CHILO,
ÁÁ
VÁTÁSE SUDHÁ CHILO,
ÁKÁSHE SUDHÁNSHU CHILO
PRÁVIT́ER GHAN MEGHE,
TÁDER D́HÁKIYÁ DEY
MOR MADHUMÁS CALE JÁY


My sweet spring season is going away. The tender leaves became matured; the green leaves
became yellow and withered down merging totally with the dust. The cuckoo came and with
flood of songs it called. With the arrival of summer sun where that flow is lost? There
was sweetness in the air, and moon in the sky, but dense rainbearing clouds cover them.


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