Nazrul Geeti.
Oh maiden from a far-off island, I know you, I know.
Stranger from the land of cinnamon, so sweet, soft-spoken.
On the calm Pacific sea,
through typhoon and the storm,
I heard your restless tune.
Do you play a wild flute of mountain cane?
The woods are washed all over in a spring-gold smile.
Deep in the coils of your hair
fresh cardamom blossoms sway,
oh flower-loving maiden.
Snapshots of the Labyrinth 