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GHANA VARAŚÁY ÁJI KEKÁ GÁY,
KUMUDE KAMALE KÁLINDII KÚLE,
KETAKII KESHAR KE BHÁSÁY,
ÁSHÁR PRADIIP NIVIYÁ GIYÁCHE,
ÁÁ
ÁSHÁR PRADIIP NIVIYÁ GIYÁCHE,
VRAJER GOPÁL LUKÁYE PARECHE,
KUINJA KÁNANE TABU NIRJANE,
KE JENO ÁJIO D́EKE JÁY,
GHANA VARAŚÁY ÁJI KEKÁ GÁY,
HÁRÁYE GIYÁCHE VRAJER SE DIN,
ÁÁ
HÁRÁYE GIYÁCHE VRAJER SE DIN,
GOPIKÁR HRDAY RIKTA SHRIIHIIN
VRAJER ÁKÁSHA HOECHE MALIN
EKA GOPÁL SABE KÁNDÁYE,
GHANA VARAŚÁY ÁJI KEKÁ GÁY
Today, the peacock sings in the intense rain,
and lilies and lotus bloom on the river bank.
Who is that, scattering about ketakii fragrance?
The rays of hope have been extinguished.
Gopa’l, Krs'n'a of Vraja, has hidden Himself.
Yet, even today, in the desolate garden
someone is calling.
The days of Vraja have passed.
The hearts of the devotees are empty and charmless.
The skies of Vraja have turned dull.
Gopa’l has made everyone cry.
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