না গো, এই যে ধুলা আমার না এ
Na go, ei je dhula amar na e
No Dear, this dust -- it is not mine,
The dust of Your earth, I cause to blow
In the evening breeze.
This body of mine is a tray,
You built for your own worship
Will fall in pieces at you feet,
When final prayer with lamps ends.
The flowers gathered for offering
Have fallen mostly on the way
The many lamps you lit on this platter
Have been put out by wind,
Never to reach your feet.
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