ÁMI, TOMÁY CEYE GECHI BÁRE BÁRE
TUMI DEKHO KI NÁ BUJHINÁ
ÁSHÁR PARE ÁSHÁ PÁVO TOMÁRE
TUMI MOR HOVE KI NÁ JÁNINÁ
TUMI DEKHO KI NÁ BUJHINÁ
NIDÁGHER DHARÁ CÁY KAJJALE
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
NIDÁGHER DHARÁ CÁY KAJJALE
KAJVAL TÁR BUKE D́HÁLE JVALE
CÁTAK JECE JÁY PHAT́IK JALE
PÚRŃA HOYE TÁR JÁCANÁ
TUMI DEKHO KI NÁ BUJHINÁ
ALI CEYE JÁY PHUL MÁJHE MADHU
ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ
ALI CEYE JÁY PHUL MÁJHE MADHU
CAKOR JÁCIÁ JÁY SHEFÁLII VIDHU
MADHU VIDHU DUI ÁSE NÁ SHUDHU
SE VIDHU JE MOR KATHÁ MÁNE NÁ
TUMI DEKHO KI NÁ BUJHINÁ
ÁMI, TOMÁR CEYE GECHI BÁRE BÁRE
TUMI DEKHO KI NÁ BUJHINÁ
I loved You again and again.
Don’t You see and understand?
I have never-ending hope to attain You,
but I do not know whether You will ever become my own.
The earth, scorching from intense sunlight,
wants dark clouds.
Let clouds pour cooling water into its bosom.
The chataka bird demands pure water.
Do fulfil its demand.
The bee looks for honey within flowers.
The cakor bird and the shefali flower long for the white moon.
Yet, neither sweetness nor moon do come.
That moon that does not heed to what I have to say.