My Bengal of Gold, I love you.
Forever your skies your air set my heart in tune as if it were a flute.
In spring, Oh mother mine, the fragrance from your mango makes me wild with joy - Ah what a trill.

In Autumn, Oh Mother mine,
in the full blossomed paddy fields, I have seen spread all over - sweet smiles. Ah, what a beauty, what shades, what an affection and what a tenderness !
What a quilt you have spread at the Banyan trees and along the banks of rivers
Oh Mother mine, words from your lips are like nectar to my ears !
Ah, What a trill !
If sadness, Mother of mine, casts a gloom on your face, my eyes are filled with
tears.