My days have passed one by one

আসা-যাওয়ার পথের ধারে
Asha jawar pather dhare

My days have passed one by one
Singing away by the traveler's path.
Now that it is time for rest -- I wonder
With whom I will leave this lute of my heart.
The tunes, I will leave in fragments
Of floral melodies;
The musical ties will be dispersed
Into arrays of clouds lined with the golden sun;
Some, like wreaths of harmony
          Will sway on lovers' hearts;
Wet the eyes of an ardent listener, some will;
Again some, like fluttering remnants of my heart
 Will be picked by a muse, from the woodland grass
             Flecked with blossoms of the Bokul*
  Suddenly, on a late spring afternoon.

Bokul* - a woody tree with little white star-shaped blossoms.