(106) Phuler saji sathe niye
| Bearing a flower basket, Who came, oh who came? A garland of songs in hand, He drifted away on a melodious stream. The bakul and bael want to open their eyes; The ashoka[1] is captivating. The bumblebees are inclined to surrender, Intoxicated by the sweet fragrance. The stars of the distant sky twinkle. The pollen of flowers floats in the air, Blending with the pollen of life. The entire universe has grown bright. Waiting for a long time, I kept hoping for whose arrival? This morning, by His own hand, He rocked the cradle of spring. |
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