O SE PRIYATAMA D́EKE JÁY ÁMÁY
PRIYATAMA, D́EKE JÁY ÁMÁY
MADHUR TAMA, MADHUR TAMA MOHAN MAMA
MAN MÁJHE MURALII BÁJÁY
D́EKE JÁY ÁMÁY
JATA BHÁVI NÁHI SÁŔÁ DOBO TÁRE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
JATA BHÁVI NÁHI SÁŔÁ DOBO TÁRE
D́ÁKIÁ CALUK JATAI SE PÁRE
DHAERYA NÁ MÁNE HIYÁ VIDARE
ÁNKHI NIIR DHÁRE D́HEKE JÁY
D́EKE JÁY ÁMÁY
VRINDÁVANE KUINJE KUINJE
KHUINJI TÁRE VEŃUKÁ NIKUINJE
VANA VIHAUNGI PUNJE PUNJE
MARMER T́ÁNE MURCHÁY
D́EKE JÁY ÁMÁY
O SE PRIYATAMA D́EKE JÁY ÁMÁY
That Dearest goes on calling me playing charming and sweetest flute within my mind. How
much I thought that I would not respond to His call, the more He goes on calling me. The
patience does not heed, the heart tears apart, the eyes get covered with flow of tears.
Within the various shrubs of Vrindavan I search Him even in bamboo groves. The herds of
wild birds pull the core of heart stupefying it.