PS 3977
MANER MAYU'R MOR MEGH DEKHE METECHE
Renditions
Lyrics
Roman script
MANER MAYUR MOR MEGH DEKHE METECHE ÁŔÁLE CÁNDER KHELÁ CALE
HÁRÁNO DIN GULI JENO KHUINJE PEYECHE VIRALE MANE MANE BOLE ÁŔÁLE CÁNDER KHELÁ CALE
EKAT́I DUT́I KARE KATA VATSAR GECHE ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ EKAT́I DUT́I KARE KATA VATSAR GECHE KATA NIDÁGHER JVÁLÁ VARAŚAY BHESECHE SHARAT ÁKÁSHER PÁSHE HEMANTE SHIITA ESECHE VASANTA D́EKE GECHE PHULE ÁŔÁLE CÁNDER KHELÁ CALE
NIDÁGHE BELÁ MÁLATI VARAŚÁY JUTHIKÁ ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ NIDÁGHE BELÁ MÁLATI VARAŚÁY JUTHIKÁ SHARATE SHEFÁLII HIME CANDRA MALLIKÁ SHIITE SHOBHAINJANE PHÁGUNER RAUNGA ÁNKÁ VASANTA KISHALAYE DULE ÁŔÁLE CÁNDER KHELÁ CALE
MANER MAYUR MOR MEGH DEKHE METECHE ÁŔÁLE CÁNDER KHELÁ CALE
Translation
My mental peacock is frenzied looking towards the clouds. Behind the game of moon was going on. In seclusion, as if it was telling that it found the lost days on searching. How many years passed, one after another, how many summer heats floated away in rainy seasons. Soon after autumn grasses, winter came, and spring went called with flowers. During summer, the bela’, during rains, malatii, during autumn, shefa’lii, during winter candramallika’, during cold, shobha’injana, during spring, colourful new leaves, all oscillate.
Thoughts
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