he nirupmā,
gāne yadi lāge bihbal tān kariẏo kṣhamā ||
jharojhro dhārā āji utrol,
nadīkūle-kūle uṭhe kallol,
bane bane gāhe marmarasbare nabīn pātā|
sajal paban diśhe diśhe tole bādalgāthā||
he nirupmā,
chapaltā āji yadi ghaṭe tabe kariẏo kṣhamā|
el barṣhār saghan dibas, banrāji āji byākul bibaśh,
bakul bīthikā mukule matt kānan-‘pare|
nabakadamb madir gandhe ākul kare||
he nirupmā,
chapaltā āji yadi ghaṭe tabe kariẏo kṣhamā|
tomār dukhāni kālo ām̐khi-‘pare barṣhār kālo chhāẏākhāni par̤e,
ghan kālo tab kuñchit keśhe yūthīr mālā|
tomār charṇe nababarṣhār|baraṇḍālā||
he nirupmā,
ām̐khi yadi āj kare aprādh, kariẏo kṣhamā|
hero ākāśher dūr koṇe koṇe bijuli chamki oṭhe khane khane,
drut kautuke tab bātāẏane kī dekhe cheẏe|
adhīr paban kiser lāgiẏā āsichhe dheẏe||
If I am impatient to-day, forgive me, my love. It is the first summer rain, and the riverside forest is aflutter, and the blossoming kadam trees, are tempting the passing winds with wine-chups of perfume. See, from all chorners of the sky lightnings are darting their glanches, and winds are rampant in your hair. If to-day I bring my homage to you, forgive me, my love. The everyday world is hidden in the dimness of the rain, all work has stopped in the village, the meadows are desolate. In your dark eyes the choming of the rain finds its musich, and it is at your door that July waits with jasmines for your hair in its blue skirt.
