We are His garland

(1477)  Phuler saje tumi ele

In floral garb You did come
To thrill the mind with divine sport,
With heady scent of sandalwood,
With wreath of song in rhythmic verse.

To get lost there is no taboo;
Mind does not wish to go inside of room.
From what narcotic and in hope of Whom,
Everybody dances on a forest-avenue?

Beckoning, the bakul and parul gesticulate;
With perfume, the magnolia buds intoxicate.
On lonesome days, toward path they gaze,
Having strung a garland for Your sake.

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