TÁHÁRI ÁSHÁY PATH CEYE HÁY
DINER PAR DIN ÁMÁR CALE JÁY
KEU BÁ BOJHÁY BHOLO E BHÁVANÁY
SE JE ÁKÁSHER CÁNDA TÁRE KE BÁ PÁY
DINER PAR DIN ÁMÁR CALE JÁY
JYOTSNÁLOKE ÁMÁR PRIITI LUŃT́HITA DEKHI
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
JYOTSNÁLOKE ÁMÁR PRIITI LUŃT́HITA DEKHI
JYOTSNÁLOKE ÁMÁR PRIITI LUŃT́HITA DEKHI
JYOTSNÁLOKE ÁMÁR PRIITI LUŃT́HITA DEKHI
AVAGUNT́HITA ÁNKHI SALÁJE KÁCHE D́ÁKI
TÁRI PARÁG MANER AŃU AŃUTE MÁKHI
DHÁRAŃÁ ANUDHYÁNE MURACHÁY
DINER PAR DIN ÁMÁR CALE JÁY
KAMAL KESHAR KAY KAMANIIYA TÁY
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
KAMAL KESHAR KAY KAMANIIYA TÁY
KAMAL KESHAR KAY KAMANIIYA TÁY
KAMAL KESHAR KAY KAMANIIYA TÁY
KE KABE KOTHÁ PÁY KETAN KARUŃÁY
DHYÁNE JE D́EKE JÁY RAUNGETE RAUNGA MESHÁY
TÁRI HIYÁY SE JE JHALAKÁY
DINER PAR DIN ÁMÁR CALE JÁY
TÁHÁRI ÁSHÁY PATH CEYE HÁY
DINER PAR DIN ÁMÁR CALE JÁY
Hoping for You,
looking at the path,
days after days of mine pass.
I should forget the idea that someone might console me.
He is the moon of the sky.
Who may attain Him?
In the moonlight, I saw my love wallow.
With veiled eyes, I shyly called Him close.
Smearing His pollen into each atom of my mind,
it becomes engrossed in concentration and meditation.
The pollen of lotus asks with charm:
“Who has ever attained Him, this icon of mercy?”
The one who continues to call Him in meditation,
merging one’s own colour with His,
the owner of such a heart,
gets to see His effulgence.