MANER MAYÚR
MOR MANER MAYÚR
CALALO BHESE NABHONIILE
BÁNDHATE TÁRE PÁROCHI NÁ JE
PÁKHÁ MELECHE CHANDE TÁLE
CALALO BHESE NABHONIILE
PICHAT́ÁN TÁR SARE GECHE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
PICHAT́ÁN TÁR SARE GECHE
DHARÁR BÁNDHAN CHINŔE PHELECHE
KÁLÁKALE NÁ MENECHE
EKAK YÁTRII JÁCCHE CALE
CALALO BHESE NABHONIILE
CALACHE SE JE NIJER BÁSÁY
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
CALACHE SE JE NIJER BÁSÁY
BHULE GECHE SAB NIRÁSHÁY
CÁOÁR PÁOÁR JAD́ER BHÁŚÁY
MANTRA MUGDHA MANTRA BALE
CALALO BHESE NABHONIILE
MANER MAYÚR
MOR MANER MAYÚR
CALALO BHESE NABHONIILE
My mental peacock goes on soaring in the blue sky. I am unable to bind it, since it goes
on flapping the wings with rhythm and beats. Its backward pull is removed, and it has torn
away worldly bondages. Without any consideration of time, the solitary voyager goes on
flying. It is going to its own home, foegetting all its disappointments with all desires
and achievements in the language of the inert, charmed with the power of mantra.