(dhora se je dey nai dey nai jare ami aponare smopite chai)
He has not given identity, his identity
To whom I want to surrender myself
Where he is staying secretly
Covering daily in hundreds of trifles
In that effort mix Bokul fragrance
In that effort blend poetic rhythm
You don’t know I covered your name
Under the shadow of southern-cover
Your faceless statue
I place in Fagun light
Tuning flute in gentle-Spring, skyline afar
Your outer garment floating in golden hue
In that drunken musical tuning
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