PST 0585 - Je phul phuteche mor maner gabhiire

Je phul phut́eche mor maner gabhiire
Táke rekhe dáo tava carańakamala 'pare
Je diip sunandita tomárei ghire ghire
Tári lági jata káṋdá hásá
Vimukta sei bhálabásá

Atiiter itiháse shośańer nágpáshe
Atyácáre jabe avaniir álo náshe
Param puruś tabe áse
Múk mukhe jágáiyá áshá

Nandanavana manthan kare ese tháko
Sudhár surabhite nijere ghiriyá rákho
Kákeo kabhu tumi avahelá karo náko
Sabár lágiyá tava áshá

Hiyá májhe t́ene náo
Madhumákhá cokhe cáo
Rúpe ráge bhare dáo áshá

The flower that has bloomed in my mind so deep,
Let it reside on the lotus of Your feet.
The bliss-giving flame that's all around Thee,
Only due to it are so many smiles and tears;
This love of Yours is emancipating.

According to history, with a noose that's serpentine,
Light on earth is extinguished by tyranny.
When that takes place, then comes the Supreme Being,
Awakening hope in those who cannot say a thing.

To agitate in paradise, again You have appeared;
Around Yourself, the scent of ambrosia You keep.
You don't neglect anyone, whomever they may be;
The hope that You bring is for everybody.

In Your heart, assimilate me.
With honey-coated eyes, gaze at me.
Fill me with hope by Your beauty and melody.