At the end of the morning, on the day of Ranga Chaitrammas
I saw you in my eyes.
In the nineteenth century,
Everyday life fair
Thousand laughing at the butt of the bat
In the middle of it I was ruined by your eyes.
Mango trees are dawn, Mukul pare jharera
The ever-known smell appeared in the air.
In the branch,
Bees with wings,
It's been a long time spring..
