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PS 4769

GHANA VARAS'A'Y A'JI KEKA' GA'Y KUMUDE KAMALE

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Roman script

GHANA VARAŚÁY ÁJI KEKÁ GÁY KUMUDE KAMALE KÁLINDII KÚLE KETAKII KESHAR KE BHÁSÁY

ÁSHÁR PRADIIP NIVIYÁ GIYÁCHE ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ ÁSHÁR PRADIIP NIVIYÁ GIYÁCHE VRAJER GOPÁL LUKÁYE PARECHE KUINJA KÁNANE TABU NIRJANE KE JENO ÁJIO D́EKE JÁY GHANA VARAŚÁY ÁJI KEKÁ GÁY

HÁRÁYE GIYÁCHE VRAJER SE DIN ÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁ HÁRÁYE GIYÁCHE VRAJER SE DIN GOPIKÁR HRDAY RIKTA SHRIIHIIN VRAJER ÁKÁSHA HOECHE MALIN EKA GOPÁL SABE KÁNDÁYE GHANA VARAŚÁY ÁJI KEKÁ GÁY

Translation

Today, the peacock sings in the intense rain and lilies and lotus bloom on the river bank. Who is that, scattering about ketakii fragrance?

The rays of hope have been extinguished. Gopa’l, Krsna of Vraja, has hidden Himself. Yet, even today, in the desolate garden someone is calling.

The days of Vraja have passed. The hearts of the devotees are empty and charmless. The skies of Vraja have turned dull. Gopa’l has made everyone cry.

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