BOLE CHILE TUMI ÁSBE ÁBÁR
HE PRIYA TÁHÁ KI GIÁCHO BHULE
TABE KENO MOR SHÁKHE SAHAKÁR
MANJARII MADHU ÁNIÁ DILE
HE PRIYA TÁHÁ KI GIÁCHO BHULE
BOLILE EI NIDÁGHE BAESHÁKHE
BELÁVALAYE BAKULER BUKE
BHULÁIÁ DITE JHARÁRI DUHKHE
PARASHE HARAŚA DÁNIBE D́HELE
HE PRIYA TÁHÁ KI GIÁCHO BHULE
KAYE CHILE HESE KETAKI KESHARE
KANT́AK KLESHA KAMÁVÁR TARE
NIKAT́E T́ÁNIBE ALIRE BHAMARE
SE KATHÁ DEVATÁ BHULIÁ GELE
HE PRIYA TÁHÁ KI GIÁCHO BHULE
BOLE CHILE TUMI ÁSBE ÁBÁR
HE PRIYA TÁHÁ KI GIÁCHO BHULE
O Dear Lord, You had told that You would come again, that did You forget? Then why on the
mango branch of mine, sweet buds did You bring? You had told that during intense summer
heat, within the bosom of bela’ and bakul flowers, to make them forget their sorrow of
withering, by touch You would pour down joy. Smilingly You had told the pollen of ketakii
for reducing the pain of thorns, You would pull the honeybees close, that fact, You had
forgotten O Lord.