Kál rátrite jhaŕ baye geche
Rajaniigandhá vane
Tári sáthe mor mane
Tumi ásile ná phire cáhile ná
Raye gele ánmane
Jhaŕer ágháte kusumera kali
Akále jhariyá jáy
Phot́á phul tár suváser sáthe
Jyotsnáy bhese jáy
Tumi ásile ná háy
Ámáre bhuliyá kár bhávanáya
Chile tumi konkháne
Jhaŕer ágháte manoviińá mor
Tár cheṋŕá haye jáy
Sab jhaiṋkár kotháy háráye jáy
Tumi ásile ná háy
Ámáre bhuliyá kon ajánáy
Chile tumi nirajane
Last night a storm raged
In the grove of tuberoses...[nb 2]
And, with it, also in my mind.
You neither came, nor glanced back at me;
You remained inattentive.
Flower buds, from storm's injury,
Are dropping prematurely;
The fragrance of their blossoms
Has been washed away by moonlight.
Alas, You did not come.
Neglecting me, distracted by whom
And in which place were You?
My mental lyre, beaten by the storm,
Its strings have got broken—
All its flourish, where has it gone?
Alas, You did not come.
Neglecting me, in what uncharted land
Were You secluded?
