3477 (30/03/1986) K


KENO JE ÁSE MADHUMÁS
MALAY VÁTÁS
BUJHEO BOJHE NÁ

ÁJI, HÁY PHÁLGUNI VÁY
MAN KÁRE CÁY
MANAI JÁNE NÁ
BUJHEO BOJHE NÁ

KOKILERI KUHU DHVANI
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
KOKILERI KUHU DHVANI
SABÁRE DEY HÁT CHÁNI
BOLE ESO KÁCHE BASO
E TITHI ROJI ÁSE NÁ
BUJHEO BOJHE NÁ

JAGATE RAUNGER KHELÁ
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
JAGATE RAUNGER KHELÁ
ARÚPE RÚPERI LIILÁ
DIYE JÁY KICHU NÁHI CÁY
PHÁGUNER NÁI KONO PÁO NÁ
BUJHEO BOJHE NÁ

KENO JE ÁSE MADHUMÁS
MALAY VÁTÁS
BUJHEO BOJHE NÁ







Why do spring and the sandal breeze come?
Although I know, I do not understand.

Today, alas, amidst the spring breeze,
my mind does not know who it wants.

The cuckoo’s cooing sound invites all,
saying: “Come and sit close.
Such a day does not come often.”

The world is a panorama of colours,
an illusory game of forms by the formless.
It only provides.
It does not want anything.
Spring has therefore no obligation.