LYRIC

Hetha goláp surabhi bhará,
mor kánane náhika kántá;
Hetha nirmal jaldhará,
joyáre náhika bhántá.

Hetha shubhra megher sparshe
Shephálii suváse bhese’ jáy;
Hethả tuunga girir shirse
Kanakdyutite jhalakáy;
Hethá sabái ámantrita,
Áche mahámilaneri chatá.

Hetha nijer práńer sparshe
Kishalay raune upcáy;
Vasante rágiảiite
Pik deke’ jáy mamatáy;
Hethá sakaler tare ache tháni
Shiyare Shiver jatá.

Here the roses are fragrant, my grove is freed of thorns,
Here water streams pure and clean, there is no ebb in the tide.

Here, caressed by white clouds,
The shiuli” drifts in fragrance,
Here the peaks of towering mountains
Glitter with the brilliance of gold,
Here all are welcome
To the splendour of a grand union.

Here, with the touch of the warmth of its life,
The tender leaf overflows in colour,
Here, in the melody of the spring,
The cuckoo sings out songs of love;
Here, there is shelter for everyone With matted hair of Shiva on the crown.


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