Restless are they for no reason

ওরা অকারণে চঞ্চল

ora okaroney chonchol

Restless are they for no reason
Swaying in the boughs
to the swinging of the breeze,
the new shoots of leaves.

Scattering a light so dazzling
What game are they upto,
in all ten directions
Murmuring, they bring into life
the tumult of youth.

Eavesdropping to hear in the skies farther and beyond
Whisperings of sounds of silence
Which words of the azure.

Surging flow of fountains of life
They cascade and fall in continuous streams
Of the forever ascetic mother earth
They are the dark flames of sacrificial fire