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PS 4107

A'MI HA'RIYE PHELECHI A'MA'RE GIRI KANDARE

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Roman script

HÁRIYE PHELECHI ÁMÁRE ÁMI, HÁRIYE PHELECHI ÁMÁRE

GIRI KANDARE VANE PRÁNTARE NADII MEKHALÁY BHÚDHARE HÁRIYE PHELECHI ÁMÁRE

SABÁI ÁPAN KEHO NAHE PAR ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ SABÁI ÁPAN KEHO NAHE PAR NIJERI SAMÁROHE BHARÁ GHAR ULKÁ VRATATII MARU NIRJHAR KAŃT́HE MELÁLO EKAI SURE HÁRIYE PHELECHI ÁMÁRE

NEVECHE VARŚÁ ÁJI KARUŃÁR PRIITI DHÁRÁ BAYE ENECHE JOÁR BRIHADÁLOKE CHOT́A DIIPÁDHÁR NIJERE HÁRIYE PELO TÁRE HÁRIYE PHELECHI ÁMÁRE ÁMI, HÁRIYE PHELECHI ÁMÁRE

Translation

I have lost my own self into mountain caves, forests, vast expanse of arid land, rivers and series of mountains, All are own, nobody is distant, The house is filled with own items. The meteorites, creepers, desert, fountains, all are attuned to only one melody. Today, the rain of mercy has come, the flowing tide has brought current of love. Under the effulgence of brilliant light, the meager lamp base has found Him on losing own self.

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