Cáo prabhu áṋkhi tule
Aparádh mor giye bhule
Mana málaiṋca theke
Phul tulechi doba bale
Dhyáne tomáy dharte nári
Kumbhiipáke ghure mari
Tomár káje lágte nári
Akáje jáy din je cale
Káṋt́ár nikuiṋje tháki
Ásháy ráuṋá chabi áṋki
Tabu tomáy d́eke tháki
Sheśer diner sáthii bale
Lord, turn Your eyes and look my way;
Please disregard my grave mistakes.
From the garden of my psyche,
I've picked flowers I'd give to Thee.
With meditation, You I can't embrace;
The depths of hell I roam in pain.
In Your work I'm not immersed;
With sin my days, they slip away.
I dwell within a thorny brake;
In hopeful hues, pictures I trace.
Despite it all, to You I call,
My companion in these final days.
