আমার এ পথ তোমার পথের থেকে
The path on which I walk
Has swerved away far from your path
Will my flowers ever again
Wreathe into a garland for you
Your flute in distant breeze
Rings out, cries out to whom
Fatigued are my feet with every step
I sit on the road beneath tree-shades
In secret pining for a friendship lost
Where is the one to whom I can tell
Travellers go past lost in themselves
Leaving me behind by myself
amar e poth tomar pother theke
The path on which I walk
Has swerved away far from your path
Will my flowers ever again
Wreathe into a garland for you
Your flute in distant breeze
Rings out, cries out to whom
Fatigued are my feet with every step
I sit on the road beneath tree-shades
In secret pining for a friendship lost
Where is the one to whom I can tell
Travellers go past lost in themselves
Leaving me behind by myself
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