ÁSABE BOLE GELE JE CALE ELE NÁ
MÁLATIR MÁLÁ SHUKIYE GIYECHE
CANDAN BÁNT́Á NILE NÁ
ÁSABE BOLE GELE JE CALE ELE NÁ
GÁN RACÁ CHILO TOMÁRI TARE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
GÁN RACÁ CHILO TOMÁRI TARE
SUR SÁDHÁ CHILO SÁRÁ DIN DHARE
JÁR LÁGI GÁN JÁR LÁGI SUR
SE TÁHÁ SUNITE ELO NÁ
ÁSABE BOLE GELE JE CALE ELE NÁ
PHÚL GULI SAB JHARIYÁ PAŔECHE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
PHÚL GULI SAB JHARIYÁ PAŔECHE
D́OR KHÁNI SHUDHU RAHIÁ GIÁCHE
DIVAS SHEŚER BHRAŚT́HA KUSUME
GÁN SONÁNO JE HOLO NÁ
ÁSABE BOLE GELE JE CALE ELE NÁ
You told that You would return,
but You went away
and did not come back.
The garland of malati flowers dried up,
without You taking any sandalwood paste.
I had created a song for You
and rehearsed its tune the whole day.
The one for whom the song and melody was made,
did not come to listen to it.
All my flowers withered away.
Now, only the stalk is left.
At the end of the day,
surrounded by dropped flowers,
I could not sing my song to You.