If, in the golden Bengal,
At the crack of dawn,
The rainbow from beyond the skies
Gently alights upon the wings of a butterfly,
Smiling all the while
Then what shall befall
As the day softly wanes,
In the twilight beneath the veiling horizon,
When evening tenderly embraces the earth?
Wandering all day through the villages of Bengal,
Across the vast wetlands, fields of rice,
From door to door, along the wild paths,
Through shaded groves and verdant forests
Amidst the gaps of flaming Krishnachura trees,
On that very path,
The midday red fairy peeks through with a playful glance.
The dark Mathura clouds paint the sky,
As the graceful Giriya ducks spread their wings,
The vermilion-touched woodpeckers tap away
While the sunbirds sing their melodies,
By the edge of the waterlily lake, beneath the banyan tree,
A contented farmer's flute releases the joy within every heart.
And none other than the blue fairy
Leaps out of the monsoon pond,
Only to descend into the courtyard
Woven by Bangla Mother's enchanting, tender touch.
So too shall the golden sun descend at twilight,
With a gentle smile amidst the evening's enchantment.
At the close of day, it will offer to the moon in pure bliss
Its crimson garland of red water lilies!
Aug 22, 2024
Aug 22, 2024 at 12:10 AM UTC
If, in the golden Bengal,
At the crack of dawn,
The rainbow from beyond the skies
Gently alights upon the wings of a butterfly,
Smiling all the while
Then what shall befall
As the day softly wanes,
In the twilight beneath the veiling horizon,
When evening tenderly embraces the earth?
Wandering all day through the villages of Bengal,
Across the vast wetlands, fields of rice,
From door to door, along the wild paths,
Through shaded groves and verdant forests
Amidst the gaps of flaming Krishnachura trees,
On that very path,
The midday red fairy peeks through with a playful glance.
The dark Mathura clouds paint the sky,
As the graceful Giriya ducks spread their wings,
The vermilion-touched woodpeckers tap away
While the sunbirds sing their melodies,
By the edge of the waterlily lake, beneath the banyan tree,
A contented farmer's flute releases the joy within every heart.
And none other than the blue fairy
Leaps out of the monsoon pond,
Only to descend into the courtyard
Woven by Bangla Mother's enchanting, tender touch.
So too shall the golden sun descend at twilight,
With a gentle smile amidst the evening's enchantment.
At the close of day, it will offer to the moon in pure bliss
Its crimson garland of red water lilies!