In the cold dark night,
Without a soul in sight ,
Sits in a corner of the street,
A blind minstrel playing shyama sangeet.
Listening to his deep and mellow voice,
Surround him, a lovely audience of dogs, cats , cows and mice
As he sings his painful tale
Of a lover searching for his beloved in almost icy gail ,
The animals in despair let out a painful wail
Sending sadness in his deep voice,
The animals cry while my neighbours rejoice
Reminding me constantly of my grandfather,
Who has now gone in the lands of yonder
I went to him , once when I was free
And asked him "baba , whom do you play for with such melancholy"
He replied to me "Last year, my son rid himself of his misery, he suicided and is now free. Hence , this song I dedicate to him for all eternity"
That day I realized the worth of a family
I still look at the cowrie he had given
"Keep it for thou remind me of my son"
The next day gone was he, as Bright showed the morning son.
I pray that he is now free,
From thy affairs of the world and his misery