বিশ্ব যখন নিদ্রামগন
biswa jokhon nidramagan
When the world is immersed in sleep
The skies painted with ebony
Who strums with such vigour
The strings of my Veena*
Who abducts sleep from my eyes
I sit up from slumber
I gaze with eagerness
But I do not catch a glimpse
My whole life reverberates
I know not the boundless words
That find their way in restless tunes
I cannot fathom this deep ache
Swelling through my heart in tears
Who is it I wish to give
The garland I wear myself
- 17th April 1907
Veena*: a plucked stringed instrument
biswa jokhon nidramagan
When the world is immersed in sleep
The skies painted with ebony
Who strums with such vigour
The strings of my Veena*
Who abducts sleep from my eyes
I sit up from slumber
I gaze with eagerness
But I do not catch a glimpse
My whole life reverberates
I know not the boundless words
That find their way in restless tunes
I cannot fathom this deep ache
Swelling through my heart in tears
Who is it I wish to give
The garland I wear myself
- 17th April 1907
Veena*: a plucked stringed instrument
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