BASO ÁMÁR GHARE OGO PRABHU
MOR BÁGÁNE PHUT́ECHE PHÚL
ÁSONI MOR GEHE TUMI KABHU
NIYE OI CARAŃ RÁTUL
MOR BÁGÁNE PHUT́ECHE PHÚL
BASO ÁMÁR GHARE OGO PRABHU
MOR BÁGÁNE PHUT́ECHE PHÚL
CAMPAK KÁNANERI GANDHA NIYE
AMARÁRI SUDHÁSYANDA DIYE
MÁNAS KUSUMER MADHU MÁKHIYE
GENTHECHI MÁLÁ ATUL
MOR BÁGÁNE PHUT́ECHE PHÚL
BASO ÁMÁR GHARE OGO PRABHU
MOR BÁGÁNE PHUT́ECHE PHÚL
SHUDDHA SHUCI MANE DHYÁNE JAPE
SÁJÁYECHI GHAR BAHU TAPE
SNIGDHA VARAŚÁTE SMITA NIIPE
ÁSHÁ DOLE DODUL DÚL
MOR BÁGÁNE PHUT́ECHE PHÚL
BASO ÁMÁR GHARE OGO PRABHU
MOR BÁGÁNE PHUT́ECHE PHÚL
O Lord,
stay a while in my home.
Flowers bloom in my garden.
You usually never come,
carrying those red feet.
Taking the fragrance of campaka flowers from the garden,
using the essence of heavenly nectar,
and the honey of my mental flowers,
I am threading a garland of no comparison.
By filling a pure and pious mind with incantation,
I have decorated my house with much endeavour.
Like the smiling niipa flower in the soft rain,
my aspiration oscillates and sways.