CHANDA HÁRÁ MOR EK TÁRÁ
TOMÁR PÁNE CHÚT́E JÁY
CHINNA ÁSHE AVYAKTA BHÁŚE
TOMÁY SHUDHU PETE CÁ
YTOMÁR PÁNE CHÚT́E JÁY
PÁOÁ NÁ PÁOÁ R URDHVA LOKE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
PÁVÁ NÁ PÁVÁ R URDHVA LOKE
BHÁVER PRADIIP UDBHÁSE PULAKE
MAN MAŃIKÁRA PRADIIPTI SÁR
SE SHÁSHVATA DHRUVA LOKE MURACHÁYA
TOMÁR PÁNE CHÚT́E JÁY
KII CEYECHI KII PEYECHI BHULIÁ GECHI
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
KII CEYECHI KII PEYECHI BHULIÁ GECHI
CÁVÁR ANTA NEI EI JENECHI
KAPÁLER KURUVINDA JÁTE NIHITA ÁCHE
ASTI BHÁTI JÁCE SE ÁNANDA SUDHÁ
TOMÁR PÁNE CHÚT́E JÁY
CHANDA HÁRÁ MOR EK TÁRÁ
TOMÁR PÁNE CHÚT́E JÁY
My tune-lost monochord keeps rushing unto You.
With broken hope and unexpressed language
its only want is to attain You.
In a world above desire and achievement,
it kindles the lamp of ideation with joy.
Illuminated in essence by its mental rosary of gems,
it remains eternally engrossed in the absolute.
I have forgotten what I wanted and what I have obtained.
I know only this much: that there is no end to desires.
That nectar of bliss,
located inside the central decoration mark of my forehead,
I seek by my existential glow.