Tu jo sooraj chori keeta
Mera si.
Tu jis ghar vich nhera keeta,
Mera si.

Ih jo dhup tere ghar hasse, meri hae.
Is de baajhoN meri umar haneri hae.
Is vich mere gham di mehak batheri hae,
Eh dhup kal si meri, aj vi meri hae.

MaeN hi kiran-vihoona is da baabal haaN,
Is de angi meri agan samoi hae,
Is vich mere sooraj di khushboi hae,
Sikhar dupehre jis di chori hoi hae.

Par is chori vich tera kuj vi dosh naheeN,
Sooraj di har yug vich chori hoi hae.
RoNdi roNdi sooraj nu har yug aNdar,
Koi na koi sada dupehri moi hae.

MaeN nir-loa, risham-vichuna araz karaaN,
MaeN ik baap adharmi tere duvaar khaRa,
Aa hatheeN ik sooraj tere sees dharaaN,
Aa aj aapni dhup lai tere paer phaRaaN.

MaeN kalkhaai deh, tu maenu bakhsh daveeN,
DhupaaN saahveN muR na mera naam laveeN.
Je koi kiran kade kujh puCHe, chupp raveeN,
Ja maenu ‘kaala sooraj’ keh ke Taal daveeN.

Eh ik dhup de baabal di arjoi hae,
Meri dhup mere lai aj toN moi hae,
Sane sooraje teri aj toN hoi hae,
Dhup jide ghar hasse, baabal soi hae.

Tu jo sooraj chori keeta,
Tera si.

Mera ghar ta janam-divas toN
Nhera si.

LokeeN poojan rab
MaeN tera birhaRa.
Saahnu sau mahkeyaaN da haj,
Ve tera birhaRa!

Lok kahin maeN suraj baneya,
Lok kahin maeN roshan hoiya.
Saahnu kehi laa gaya ahg,
Ve tera birhaRa!

PiCHe mere mera saaya,
Ahge mere mera nhera.
Kite jaaye na baaheeN CHaD,
Ve tera birhaRa!

Na is vich kise tan di miTi,
Na is vich kise man da kooRa.
AsaaN chaaRh CHaTaaeeya CHaj,
Ve tera birhaRa!

Jad vi gham diyaaN ghaReeyaaN aaeeyaaN,
Le ke peeRaaN te tanhaaeeyaaN,
AsaaN kol biTHaaya sad,
Ve tera birhaRa!

Kadi taaN saathoN shabad raNgaave,
Kadi taaN saathoN geet unaave,
Saahnu lakh sikha geya chaj,
Ve tera birhaRa!

Jad peeRaaN mere paereeN paeeyaaN,
Sidak mere de sadke gaeeyaaN,
TaaN vekhan aaya jahg
Ve tera birhaRa!

AsaaN ja ishkoN rutba paaya,
Lok vadhaaeeyaaN devan aaya,
SaaDe roya gal nu lahg
Ve tera birhaRa!

Maenu taaN kujh akal na kaayi,
Duniya maenu dasan aayi.
Saahnu takhat biTHa geya ahj,
Ve tera birhaRa!

People worship god.
I worship this separation from you.
It is worth Haj to a hundred Meccas,
This separation from you.

People say I am as brilliant as the sun,
They say I am famous.
What a fire it has lit in me,
This separation from you.

Behind me is my shadow,
Ahead, is my darkness.
I fear that it might leave me,
This separation from you.

No taint of the body is in it,
Nor litter of the mind,
All has been winnowed out,
By this separation from you.

When sorrow comes, bringing with it
Loneliness and pain,
I pull it close to me,
This separation from you.

Sometimes it colors my words
Sometimes it weaves through my songs,
It has taught me great deal,
This separation from you.

When sorrow, defeated, fell at my feet,
Amazed at my fidelity,
The world came out to see
This separation from you.

Love earned me fame.
People flocked to praise me.
It wept in my embrace,
This separation from you.

The world turned out to tell me,
That I had been unwise.
It sat me on a throne today
This separation from you.

Birha birha aakhiye,
Birha tu sultaan,
Jis tan birha na upaje
So tan jaan masaan.

AseeN sabhe birha ghar jammade,
AseeN birha di santaan,
Birha khaaeeye birha paaeeye,
Birha aaye haNDaaN.

AseeN sab birhaaN de mandareeN,
Dhukde doof masaan,
Bin birha umar sugaNdheeyaaN
Sabhe binsa jaan.

Birha seti upajiya,
Eh dharti te asmaan,
Birha seti sooraj jamman,
DihooN paye geRe khaan.

MaeN vaDbhaagi tera birha
LaR lahg mere aan,
Bin birha theeN di THeekari
Kise ujaRe kabristaan.

Aj sabe dhartiyaaN meriyaaN,
Te sabhe hi asmaan,
Aj sabhe raNg hi maeNDRe
Mere vihRe jhumar paan.

Tu he runne man meriye,
KyuN loche vasal haNDHaan,
Je disha dishaavaaN aapaseeN,
Milan kade na jaan.

AsaaN joon haNDHaani mahik di,
Sahnu birha da vardaan,
SaaDe is birha de naam toN
KoT janam kurbaan.

Birha birha aakhiye,
Birha tu sultaan,
Jis tan birha na upaje,
So tan jaan masaan.

Let us speak of separation,
Separation is king.
A body that does not feel separation,
Is dead body.

We are all born in the house of separation,
We are children of separation,
We receive it, we swallow it,
We are on this earth to bear it.

In the temple of separation each one of us
Burns like incense,
Without separation every odor of life
Would perish.

From separation emerges
This earth, this sky.
From separation originates the sun
And the days revolve.

I was supremely fortunate that this separation from you,
Attached itself to me.
Without it I would have been just a piece of clay
In an empty graveyard.

Today all the world is mine
And all the skies.
Today every color sways
In my courtyard.

Why, my soul, like a woman,
Do you long for union?
Do different directions
Ever meet?

I must extract the very essence of fragrance,
For I have been given the gift of separation,
For the sake of this separation
I would give up a hundred births.

Let us speak of separation,
Separation is king.
A body that does not feel separation,
Is dead body.

Hae chir hoiya,
Mera aapa mere saNg rus ke
Kite Tur gaya hae,
Te mere kol mera
Sakhana kalboot baaki hae,
Te mere ghar di har deevaar te
CHaayi udaasi hae,
Hae chir hoiya
Mera aapa mere saNg rus ke
Kite Tur gaya hae,
Te mera ghar ohde Tur jaan piCHoN
Jhur reha hae.

O aksar bahut DooNghi raat gaye hi
Ghar paratda si,
Te sooraj huNdiyaaN o
Ghar diyaaN bhitaaN toN Darda si,
O kehRe hiran laNge kar riha si
Kujh na dasda si,
Te din bhar aapne
ParCHaaviyaaN piCHe nhasda si.

Maenu ohdi devdaasi bhaTkana
Aksar DaraaNdi si,
Te uhdi aakh di vahisht
JiveN sheeshe nu khaaNdi si,
Te ohdi chup
BuDHe ghar de hun jaale hilaaNdi si.

MaeN ik din chup vich
Uhnu ghar diyaaN kaNdhaaN dikha baiTHa,
O dhup vich roNdiyaaN kaNdhaaN di gahl
Seene nu la baiTHa.
MaeN aeveN bhul kaNdhaaN di gahl
Usnu suna baiTHa
Te uhda saath kaNdhaaN toN,
Hamesha lai gava baiTHa.

O ghar CHaDan toN pehlaaN us din,
Har khooNje vich phiriya,
Te ghar vich khaNg raheeyaaN
Beemaar sab iTaaN de galeeN miliya,
Te us manhoos din piCHoN
Kade o ghar naheeN MuRiya.

Hun jad vi rail di paTaRi te koi
Khudkashi kar da e,
JaaN Tola bhikshuaaN da
Sir munaaee shehar vich chalda ae,
JaaN naksalbaaReeya koi
Kise nu katal jad karda ae,
Te mere ghar diyaaN kaNdhaaN nu
Us pal taap aa chaRda ae.
Te buDHe ghar diyaaN
Beemaar iTaaN da badan THarda ae.
Eh buDHe ghar diyaaN
Beemaar iTaaN nu bharosa hae,
O jithe vi hae jehRe haal vich hae
O bedosh hae,
Uhnu ghar te naheeN
Ghar diyaaN kaNdhaaN te rosa hae.

Hae chir hoiya
Mera aapa mere saNg rus ke
Kite door Tur gaya hae
Te mere kol mera sakhana kalboot
Baaki hae,
Jo buDHe ghar diyaaN
Hun mar rahiyaaN kaNdhaaN da saathi hae.

It has been a while
Since my self became displeased with me
And left.
What remains with me
Is just an empty shell
And every wall of my home,
Is overcast with sadness.
It has been a while
Since my self became displeased with me
And left.
And my home, since his departure
Is grieving.

He often returned home
Very late into the night.
As soon as the sun rose,
He would become fearful of the crevices in the walls.
What thoughts leaped across his mind
He would never say,
But all day long
He chased his shadow.

This fruitless wandering of his
Often scared me.
The wildness in his eyes
Almost ate into the mirror
And the cobwebs in that old house
Stirred in this silence.

One day, during such a silence
I showed him the walls of the house.
The thought of those walls weeping in the sunlight
Struck him deeply.
I spoke to him about the walls without thinking,
Because I lost for evermore
His association with these walls.

Before he left the house that day
He walked through every inch of it,
He embraced every coughing,
Ailing brick in the house.
And since that ill-omened day
He never once returned home.

Now whenever someone kills himself
Across a railroad,
Or a group of monks with shaven head
Walks through the town,
Or a Naxalite
Slays somebody -
The walls of my home
Become feverish.
The ailing bricks of this old house
Shiver.
The ailing bricks of this old house
Have faith
That wherever he is, in whatever condition
He is blameless.
He is not displeased with the house,
He is just displeased with the walls of the house.

It has been a while
Since my self became displeased with me
And left.
What remains with me
Is an empty shell,
That is the companion
Of the dying walls of this old house.

AseeN kachiyaaN anaaraaN deeyaaN taahneeyaaN,
PaeeyaaN paeeyaaN jhoom ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.
Cheere vaaliya, dilaaN diya kaaliya,
PaeeyaaN paeeyaaN jhoom ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.

AseeN jaNgali hiran diyaaN akhiyaaN,
BeliyaaN ‘ch bal ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.
Cheere vaaliya, dilaaN deya kaaliya,
BeliyaaN ‘ch bal ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.

AseeN patanaaN te paeeyaaN beReeyaaN,
PaeeyaaN paeeyaaN jhoom ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.
Cheere vaaliya, dilaaN diya kaaliya,
PaeeyaaN paeeyaaN Dub ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.

AseeN khaND mishri diyaaN DaleeyaaN,
PaeeyaaN paeeyaaN jhoom ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.
Cheere vaaliya, dilaaN diya kaaliya,
PaeeyaaN paeeyaaN khur ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.

AseeN kaale chandan diyaaN geliyaaN,
PaeeyaaN paeeyaaN jhoom ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.
Cheere vaaliya, dilaaN diya kaaliya,
PaeeyaaN paeeyaaN dhukh ve raheeyaaN,
Cheere vaaliya.

Cheere Vaaleya - Turbaned On

Like a branch of the pomegranate tree,
We lie here, swaying slowly, o turbaned one.
Turbaned one, black of heart,
Swaying slowly, o turbaned one.

Like the eyes of a wild deer,
Burning in the forest, o turbaned one.
Turbaned one, black of heart,
Burning in the forest, o turbaned one.

Like boats left at the shore,
We lie here, sinking slowly, o turbaned one.
Turbaned one, black of heart,
Sinking slowly, o turbaned one.

Like lumps of sugar candy,
We lie here, dissolving slowly, o turbaned one.
Turbaned one, black of heart,
Dissolving slowly, o turbaned one.

Like logs of black sandalwood,
We lie here, smoldering slowly, o turbaned one.
Turbaned one, black of heart,
Smoldering slowly, o turbaned one.

Like a house with walls of unbaked brick,
We are crumbling slowly, o turbaned one.
Turbaned one, black of heart,
Crumbling slowly, o turbaned one.

Jad paeN kapaaheeN phul,
Ve dharmi baabala!
Saahnu o rut lae dayeeN mul,
Ve dharmi baabala.

Es rute mera geet gavaacha,
Jihde gal birhoN di gaani,
Mukh te kil ghamaaN de -
Naini ujaRe khu da paani,
Geet ke jisnu hoNT CHuhaaiyaaN
Jaaye kathoori hul,
Ve dharmi baabala!
Saahnu geet o lae dayeeN mul,
Ve dharmi baabala.

Ik din maeN te geet mere,
Es Toone - haari rute,
DilaaN di dharti vaahi goDi
Beeje supne suche.
Lakh naina de paani siNje
Par na lahge phul,
Ve dharmi baabala.
Saahnu ik phul lae dayeeN mul,
Ve dharmi baabala.

KihRe kam e milakh jageeraaN,
Je theeyaaN kumhlaaeeyaaN,
KihRe kam tere maansarovar,
HaNsniyaaN tirhaaeeyaaN,
KihRe kam khilaari teri
Chog motiyaaN tul -
Ve dharmi baabala!
Je rut na lae dayeN mul,
Ve dharmi baabala.
Jad paeN kapaaheeN phul,
Ve dharmi baabala!

When the cotton flowers bloom,
O noble father,
Bring that season back for me,
O noble father.

That was the season when I lost my song,
Around its neck was the string of separation.
On its face were boils of sorrow,
Its eyes looked like the water of ruined wells.
It had been a song, that when sung,
Released the scent of musk.
O noble father,
Bring back that song for me.
O noble father.

One day my song and I,
In that enchanted season,
Ploughed the earth of my heart,
Sowed it with seeds of undefiled dreams.
But no matter how many tears I poured,
No flower bloomed.
O noble father.
Bring back one flower for me,
O noble father.

What use your fertile lands
If daughters wilt?
What use your great lakes
If the swans are thirsting?
What use your ample wealth,
Your granary of pearls,
O noble father,
If you cannot bring back the season,
When the cotton flower blooms,
O noble father.

Eh mera geet
Kise na gaana.
Eh mera geet
MaeN aape ga ke
Bhalke hi mar jaana!

Eh mera geet dharat toN maela,
Sooraj jeD puraana.
KoT janm toN piya asaahnu
Is da bol haNDHaana.
Hor kise di jaah na koi
Is nu hoTHeeN laana,
Eh taaN mere naal janmeya
Naal bahishteeN jaana.
Eh mera geet
MaeN aape ga ke
Bhalke hi mar jaana!

Es geet da ajab jiha sur,
DaaDHa darad raNjhaanaaN.
Katak maah vich door pahaaReeN
KooNjaaN da kurlaana.
Noor-paak de vele rakh vich,
ChiReeyaaN da chichalaana
Kaali raate sarkaRiyaaN toN
PaunaaN da laNgh jaana!
Eh mera geet
MaeN aape ga ke
Bhalke hi mar jaana!

MaeN te mere geet ne dohaaN,
Jad bhalke mar jaana,
BirhoN de ghar jaaeeyaaN saahnu
KabareeN labhan auna.
Sabhna saaeeyaaN ik avaaze
MukhoN bol alaana:
Kise kise de lekheeN huNda
EDa darad kamaana.

Eh mera geet
Kise na gaana.
Eh mera geet
MaeN aape ga ke
Bhalke hi mar jaana!

Do not sing
My song.
I must sing this song
Myself,
And then die.

This song is more soiled than the earth,
As old as the sun,
For many births I have had to live
The weight of its words.
No one else has the ability
To bring voice to it.
This song was born with me,
And will die with me.
I must sing this song
Myself,
And then die.

This song has a rare melody,
It is filled with pain.
It is like the shriek of cranes
Heard from distant mountains in autumn.
Or the clamor of birds in a forest,
Heard in a chaste dawn.
Or the sound of the wind flowing through high grasses
Heard on a black night.
I must sing this song
Myself,
And then die.

When I and my songs
Both die,
They who inhabit separation-houses
Will seek out my grave.
With one voice,
They will declare,
“Only a very few are fated
To shoulder such pain.”

Do not sing
This song of mine.
I must sing this song
Myself,
And then die.

GhamaaN di raat lahmi eh.
Ja mere geet lahme ne,
Na bhaeRi raat mukdi eh,
Na mere geet mukde ne.

E sar kihne ku DooNge ne,
Kis ne hath na paayi,
Na barsaataaN ‘ch chaRde ne,
Te na auRaaN ‘ch sukhde ne.

Mere haD hi avahle ne,
Jo ahg laaiyaaN nahi saRde,
Ne saRde haukeyaaN de naal,
HaavaaN naal dhukde ne.

Eh phaT han ishk de
Ehna di yaaro ki dava hove,
Eh hath laaiyaaN vi dukhde ne,
Malham laaiyaaN vi dukhde ne.

Je gori raat hae chaNn di,
Te kaali raat hae kis di?
Na lukde taareyaaN vich chaNn,
Na taare chaNn ‘ch lukde ne.

Either this sorrowful night is long
Or my songs are interminable.
This dreadful night does not end,
Nor do my songs cease.

How deep are these lakes?
No one has measured them.
But they do not swell up in the rains,
Nor dry up in drought.

There is something wrong with my bones,
Set them on fire and they do not scorch.
Sighs burn them,
Grief scorches them.

These are the injuries of love.
What cure, my friend, is possible?
A touch hurts.
A salve hurts.

The fair night belongs to the moon,
To whom does a dark night belong?
A moon does not hide among stars,
Nor can stars be concealed in the moon.

My friend ,
You have accused me
Of stealing the color from a butterfly
Of your town.
I tore out of some garden, you say,
A sapling of gulmohar
And planted it
In a desolate and barren cemetery.
Just as the coral tree
Has bitter roots,
So, in my heart,
Lies sin!
I am degenerate, immoral,
You have judged me to be vile!
I am well aquainted with pain and have deliberately
Made it my power.
I am a bird of prey and do not care
For the friendship of little birds.
My colors are false,
I am a dishonest dyer!
The inky serpent of fame
Lies around my neck
And strikes, with my songs,
Little heart-baskets!

My pain, like Ashwathaama’s
Is never-ending!
You remind me that my body-room
Will disintegrate soon enough.
In exchange for fragrant songs
I trade in wombs.
I am, you write
A very adolescent trader.

You say that a shadow
Is a child of light.
It is not the duty of a shadow
To separate.
The duty of a shadow is
Devotion to light.
In light, to always be ahead,
And to extinguish itself in light.

Even a bird can fly away
If is miserable in its cage.
But each day
I catch and discard new birds.
The reason I do this, you say, is that I covet just one thing,
The sorrow in my soul.
Because every song I sing,
Is a song of sorrow.

You also write
About one butterfly.
The butterfly who spent a short time
In my garden,
The butterfly with a weakness for,
Silver flowers,
The butterflywho desired,
Golden stars.

Her face was sweet,
Like the moon in a desert.
My songs
Were very dear to her.
You considered me
A son of Saraswati,
Today your opinion about me
Is altered!

At the end you have written
That I ought to be ashamed of myself!
That I should drown myself
In a tub of acid!
I should take my sick self -
Along with my songs -
And leave the environs
Of your town today!
Society has no need
Of my worthless sorrows!
I should be fighting for
The rights of workers!
I ought to disperse the color
Of my beloved
To the grain in the fields.
I ought to take the sorrow of the world,
And set it, like a jewel, in a ring of songs!

Ik kuRi jihda naam muhabat,
Gumm hae.
Saad muraadi, suhni phabat,
Gumm hae.

Soorat usdi pareeyaaN vargi,
Seerat di o mareeam lagdi,
Hasdi hae taaN phul jhaRade ne,
Turdi hae taaN gazal hae lagdi.
Lamm-salammi, saru kad di
Umar aje hae marke ahg di,
Par naena di gahl samajhdi.

GummiyaaN janam janam han hoye.
Par lagdae jyuN kal di gahl hae.
IyoN lagdae jyuN ahj di gahl hae,
IyoN lagdae jyuN hun di gahl hae.

Hune taaN mere kol khaRi si,
Hune taaN mere kol naheeN hae,
Ih ki CHal hae, ih ki bhaTkan
Soch meri haeran baRi hae.
Nazar meri har auNde jaaNde
Chihre da raNg phol rahi hae,
Us kuRi nu Tol rahi hae.

SaaNjh DHale baazaaraaN de jad,
MoRaaN te khushbu ugdi hae.
Vihal, thakaavaT, bechaeni jad,
Chau raaheyaaN te a juRadi hae.
Raule lihpi tanhaai vich
Us kuRi di thuR khaaNdi hae.
Us kuRi di thuR disdi hae.
Har CHin maenu iyoN lagda hae,
Har din maenu iyoN lagda hae.
JuRe jashan de bheeRaaN vichoN,
JuRi mahik de jhurmat vichoN,
Uh maenu aawaaz davegi,
MaeN uhnu pahichaan lavaaNga
Uh maenu pahichaan lavegi.
Par is raule de haR vichoN
Koi maenu aawaaz na deNda,
Koi vi mere val na vahiNda.

Par khaure kyuN Tapala lagda,
Par khaure kyuN jhaula paeNda,
Har din har ik bheeR juRi choN,
Buht uhda jyuN laNgh ke jaaNda.
Par maenu hi nazar na auNda.
Gumm gaya maeN os kuRi de
Chehre de vich gumiya rehNda,
Us de gham vich ghulda rahiNda,
Us de gham vich khurda jaaNda!
Us kuRi nu meri sauN hae,
Us kuRi nu apni sauN hae.

Us kuRi nu sab di sauN hae.
Us kuRi nu jag di sauN hae,
Us kuRi nu rahb di sauN hae,
Je kite paRdi suNdi hove,
JiyuNdi ya uh mar rahi hove,
Ik vaari aa ke mil jaave,
Vafa meri nu daag na laave,
NaheeN taaN maethoN jeeya na jaaNda,
Geet koi likhiya na jaaNda!

Ik kuRi jihda naam muhabat.
Gumm hae.
Saad muradi suhni bhabat,
Gumm hae.

A girl whose name is Love
Is lost.
Simple, beautiful,
She is lost.

Her beauty, ethereal
Virtuous, like Mary,
Her laughter, blossoms falling,
Her gait, a poem.
Tall as a cypress,
Barely alight,
Yet she undertands the language of a glance.
It has been ages since she was lost
Yet it feels like yesterday,
It feels like today.
It feels like now.

She was standing beside me just now,
She is beside me no more.
What deception is this? What trickery?
I am bewildered.
My eyes examine every passerby,
Scanning their faces,
Searching for that girl.

When evening descends upon the bazaar
And perfumes erupt at every corner,
When restlessness and tiredness
Collide with leisure,
Isolated in that noise,
Her absence eats at me.
I see her
Every moment I feel as though –
Every day I feel as though –
From this throng of people,
From this crowd of odors,
She will call out to me,
I will recognize her,
She will recognize me.
But from this flood of noise
Nobody calls out to me,
Nobody looks toward me.

But, I don’t know why I feel
Indistinctly, obscurely,
Every day, through every crowd,
As though her form moves past me
But I am not able to see her.
I am lost in her face
And stay lost in it
I keep dissolving in this grief.
I keep melting in this grief.

I beg this girl, for my sake,
I beg her for her own sake,
I beg her for everyones sake
I beg her for the sake of this world,
I beg her for the sake of God,
If somewhere she reads or hears this
Whether she be alive or dying
That she come and meet me once
That she not stain my love.
Else I will not be able to live,
I will not be able to write a song.

A girl whose name is Love
Is lost.
Simple, beautiful,
She is lost.

JiNdu de baageeN,
DardaaN da booTaRa,
GeetaaN da mirag chare,
HijaraaN di vaau
Vagge ahd raini
Koi koi paht kire.

Koi koi paht,
Kire maae mereeye,
BaageeN taaN shor pave
UhDe jaan koi koi
SaahvaaN da paNCHi
GeetaaN da mirag Dare.

SaahvaaN de paNCHi,
TaaN uhDan haare,
Daami na jaan PhaRe,
Raat baraate,
Desh-dishaantar,
UhDde jaan chale.

DareeN na mirga,
DardaaN de pahtar,
Roz na rahin hare,
Virle taaN uhgde,
DardaaN de bootaRe,
SaNghane mahik bhare.

Ik taaN taeNDRe
Kol kathoori,
Dooje taaN darad baRe,
Teeja taaN taeNDRa
Roop suhaNdaRa
GalaaN taaN milakh kare.

MareeN ve CHaalaaN,
BhareeN ve chuNgeeyaaN,
TaeNDaRe karam khare,
TaeNDaRe gal –
Gham-haar-humelaaN
Jholi ‘ch hor vare.

JiNdu de baageeN
DardaaN da booTaRa
GeetaaN da mirag chare,
HijaraaN di vaau
Vagge ahd raini
Koi koi paht kire.

In the garden of life,
Grows a sapling of pain,
The deer of songs nibbles at it.
The winds of seperation
Blow through the night,
A few leaves drop.

A few leaves drop,
Mother, they drop,
And sounds stir in the garden.
If a few birds of breath
Should fly away,
The deer of songs is afraid.

But the birds of breath
Will surely fly,
Nothing can hold them back.
Through the night
In every direction
They fly away.

Don’t be afraid, deer of songs,
The leaves of pain
Do not always stay fresh.
Though the saplings of pain
So filled with perfume
Sprout easily.

Don’t forget that you possess
The sac of musk,
That you have a lot of pain,
That your face
Is beautiful
And your words precious.

So keep on leaping
And keep on jumping
What you are doing is right.
Around your neck
Lie garlands of sorrow,
May more of them rain upon you!

In the garden of life
Grows a sapling of pain,
The deer of songs nibbles at it.
The winds of seperation
Blow through the night,
A few leaves drop.

Jithe itaraaN de vagde ne cho,
Ni uthe mera yaar vasda!
JithoN laNghdi hae paun vi khalo,
Ni othe mera yaar vasda!

NaNge naNge paereeN
Jithe aun parbhaataaN,
RishmaaN di mahiNdi
PaereeN laun jithe raataaN,
Jithe chaanani ‘ch nhaave khushbo,
Ni uthe mera yaar vasda!

Jithe han muNgeeyaaN
ChaNdan deeyaaN jhaNgeeyaaN,
Phiran shuaavaaN
Jithe ho ho naNgeeyaaN,
Jithe deeviyaaN nu labhadi hae lo,
Ni uthe mera yaar vasda!

PaaneeyaaN de pahTaaN uhte
SaveN jithe aathan,
ChuNgeeyaaN mareeve
Jithe mirgaaN da aatan,
Jithe bado badi akh paeNdi ro,
Ni uthe mera yaar vasda!

Bhukhe-bhaane saun
Jithe khetaaN de raane,
Sajana de raNg je
KanakaaN de daane,
Jithe dahma vaale laeNde ne lako,
Ni uthe mera yaar vasda!

Jithe itaraaN de vagde ne cho,
Ni uthe mera yaar vasda!
JithoN laNghdi hae paun vi khalo,
Ni uthe mera yaar vasda!

Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where dawn arrives on bare toes,
Where night paints henna-beams on feet,
Where fragrance bathes in moonlight,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where rays of light roam nakedly,
In green forests of sandalwood.
Where the flame seeks the lamp,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where sunsets sleep on wide waters,
And the deer leap.
Where tears fall for no reason,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where the farmer sleeps hungry,
Even though the wheat is the color of my beloved,
Where the wealthy ones lie in hiding,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.

Ki puCHdiyu ho haal fakeeraaN da,
SaaDa nadiyuN viCHaRe neeraaN da.
SaaDa haNjh di joone aaiyaaN da,
SaaDa dil jaliyaaN dilgeeraaN da!

Ih jaandiyaaN kujh shokh jahe
RaNgaaN da naaN hi tasveeraaN hae,
Jad haT gaye aseeN ishke di,
Mul kar baeTHe tasveeraaN da!

Saahnu lakhaaN da tan labh giya,
Par ik da man vi na miliya.
Kiya likhiya kise mukahdar si
HathaaN deeyaaN chaar lakeeraaN da!

Takdeer da aapni sauNkan si,
TadbeeraaN saathoN na hoeeyaaN.
Na jhaNg CHuTiya na kan paaTe
JhuND laNgh giya iNjh heeraaN da.

Mere geet vi lok suneeNde ne,
Naale kaafar aakh sadeeNde ne,
MaeN darad nu kaaba keh baeTHa
Rahb naaN rakh baeTHa peeRaaN da.

MaeN daanashvaraaN suneeNdiyaaN saNg,
Kai vaari uhchi bol piya,
Kujh maan si saahnu ishke da,
Kujh daava vi si peeRaaN da!

TooN khud nu aakal kahiNda haeN,
MaeN khud nu aashik dasda haaN,
Ih lokaaN te CHaD daeeye,
Kihnu maan ne daeNde peeraaN da!

Why ask about the condition of fakirs like us?
We are water, separated from its river,
Emerged from a tear,
Melancholy, distressed.

Of course I knew that a painting is just
A whimsy of colors-
But when I entered the emporium of love,
I paid a price.

Countless bodies did I find,
But not one mind did I meet.
This was written in my fate,
In the four lines of my palm.

My destiny was my rival.
I could never find a way to escape it.
I did not leave Jhang, I did not pierce my ears,
And a crowd of Heers crossed my path.

People listen to my songs,
But call me a heretic,
Because I named pain my kaaba,
And sorrow, my god.

On occasion, in gatherings of great people
I have spoken sharply.
Perhaps I was arrogant about my love,
Perhaps I felt I had a claim upon pain.

You call yourself a wise man,
I say I am a lover.
Let us leave it to the people to decide
To whom they will give the esteem of a pir.

Koi bol ve mukhoN bol
Sajana saaNvaleya,
SaaDe saah vich chetar ghol,
Sajana saaNvaleya.

Je saaDe saaheeN chetar gholeN,
MaeN hirani ban jaavaaN.
Roop tere de saNghane baageeN
Chugan sugaNdhiyaaN aavaaN.
TooN maenu maare baan birhoN de,
MaeN tatRi gash khaavaaN,
Lakh piaavaeN maeN na peevaaN
Bol sugaNdhiyoN sohl
Sajana saaNvaleya,
SaaDe saah vich chetar ghol
Sajana saaNvaleya.

Je saaDe saaheeN chetar gholeN,
MaeN chaanan ban jaavaaN,
Adhi raati van chanan de
TaenDi khaatir gaahvaaN.
Mahik kuaari, paeroN bhaari,
TaenDi sej viCHaavaaN,
Suhte paye da chuman lae ke,
JaavaaN parat aDol
Sajana saaNvaleya,
SaaDe saah vich chetar ghol
Sajana saaNvaleya.

Je saaDe saaheeN chetar gholeN,
MaeN badali ban jaavaaN,
JihRe raaheeN saah tera laNghe
Us raah te var jaavaaN.
Vedan de khooh umaroN gahire
Gal gal bhardi jaavaaN,
JihRe khooheeN lahj na huNdi
Na huNde su Dol
Sajana saaNvaleya,
SaaDe saah vich chetar ghol
Sajana saaNvaleya.

Je saaDe saaheeN chetar gholeN,
MaeN titali ban jaavaaN,
Boor birhoN da akaloN mahiNga,
Dar dar vaNDan jaavaaN,
Rukh birhoN da nahuoN nihka,
ArbaaN koh parCHaavaaN,
Eh rukh jiha avallaRa ugda
Aen kaleje kol,
Sajana saaNvaleya.

SaaDe saah vich chetar ghol,
Sajana saaNvaleya.
Bol ve mukhoN bol
Sajana saaNvaleya.

Say a word, say something
O my dark beloved!
Stir spring into my life!
O my dark beloved!

If you stir spring into my life,
I will become a doe.
In the dense garden of your beauty
I will forage for fragrance.
If you shoot arrows of separation at me
I, infatuated, will swoon!
I will not drink, though you pour upon me
Delicate, sweet words.

If you stir spring into my life,
I will become moonlight.
At midnight, in a sandalwood forest
I will come to you.
Heavy with perfume
I will lay a bed for you.
While you sleep, I will kiss you,
And fall back, unbalanced.

If you stir spring into my life,
I will become a cloud.
Whatever road you walk
Upon it I will shower myself.
The wells of grief, I know, are deeper than life itself,
I will fill them, neck high.
These wells that have no rope,
And no pail.

If you stir spring into my life,
I will become a butterfly.
The pollen of separation, more precious than wisdom
I will distribute from door to door.
The tree of separation is tinier than a nail
But casts a shadow a million miles wide,
This tree that grows peversely,
Right beside the heart.
O my dark beloved!
Stir spring into my life!
O my dark beloved!

MaeN kal lafaj chunda si.

Ik lafaj bohR te baeTHa si
Te ik pihpal te,
Ik meri gali vich
Te ik ghaRe vich peya si.
Ik hare raNg da lafaj khetaaN vich peya si,
Ik kaale raNg da lafaj maas kha riha si.
Ik neele raNg da lafaj,
Soraj da daana mooh vich layi uD riha si.
Maenu duniya di har ik cheez lafaj lagdi hae.
AkhaaN de lafaj,
HathaaN de lafaj.
Par bullaaN de lafaj samaj naheeN auNde ne.
Maenu sirf lafaj paRhne auNde ne,
Maenu sirf lafaj paRhne auNde ne.

Yesterday, I was collecting words.

One was up there, sitting in the bo tree,
Another was in the banyan.
One was wandering in my street,
Another was lying in the earthen jar.
A green word lay in the fields,
A black one was eating flesh.
A blue word was flying
With a grain of the sun in its beak.
Every single thing in this world looks like a word to me.
The words of eyes,
The words of hands.
But I do not understand words I hear from a mouth.
I can only read words.
I can only read words.

Listen, mother,
My songs are eyes
Stinging with grains of separation.
In the middle of the night ,
They wake and weep for dead friends.
Mother, I cannot sleep.

Upon them I lay strips of moonlight
Soaked in perfume,
But the pain does not recede.
I foment them
With warm sighs
Yet they turn on me ferociously.

I am still young,
And need guidance myself.
Who can advise him?
Mother, would you tell him,
To clench his lips when he weeps,
Or the world will hear him cry.

Tell him, mother, to swallow the bread
Of separation.
He is fated to mourn.
Tell him to lick the salty dew
On the roses of sorrow,
And stay strong.

Where are the snake handlers
From whom I can beg for a shroud to cover me?
Somebody give me a shroud that will fit!
How can I wait like a jogi
At the doorstep of these people
Greedy for gold?

Listen, o my pain,
Love is like a butterfly
Pinned forever to a stake.
It is like a bee,
From whom desire,
Stays miles away.

Love is a palace
Where, but for birds,
Nothing else lives.
Love is a hearth
Where the bed of fulfillment,
Is never laid.

Mother, tell him not to
Call out the name of his dead friends
So loudly in the middle of the night.
When I am gone, I fear
That this malicious world,
Will say that my songs were evil.

Listen, o mother
My songs are eyes
Stinging with grains of separation.
In the middle of the night ,
They wake and weep for dead friends.
Mother, I cannot sleep.

Ni jiNde
MaeN kal naheeN rahina!
Aj raateeN asaaN ghuT baahaaN vich
GeetaaN da ik chuman laena,
Ni jiNde
MaeN kal naheeN rahina!

Na kal khiRna chaanan da phul
Na kal khiRna chaMba,
Na kal baageeN mahikaaN phirna
Kar ke ni sir naNga.
Na aj vaakan
Lif lif TaahnaaN
Dharti paereeN paenaaN!
Ni jiNde
MaeN kal naheeN rahina!

KooNjaaN uhD puhD jaana
Kidhare door disaureeN,
Kal tak peeR mere nu samiyaaN
Var lae jaana zoreeN.
Na ruhtaaN gal
Kal nu rahina
PhulaaN da koi gahina,
Ni jiNde
MaeN kal naheeN rahina!

Na raahvaaN deeyaaN paeRaaN kal nu
Din chaRde tak jeena,
Na mere geetaaN birhe joga
Sucha jhaga seena.
MuR na tavaareekh di CHaaveN
INj haNju koi bahina,
Ni jiNde
MaeN kal naheeN rahina!

Na aj vaakan muR ke ral mil
Tu bahina maeN bahina,
Na kal edaaN suraj chaRna
Na kal edaaN lahina.
Same de paNCHi
Daana daana
SaahvaaN da chuk laena,
Ni jiNde
MaeN kal naheeN rahina!

Aj raati asaaN ghuT baahaaN vich
GeetaaN da ik chuman laena.

Listen, O my life,
I will not be here tomorrow.
Tonight, let us clutch a song tightly,
And claim its kiss.
Listen, O my life
I will not be here tomorrow.

The moonlight will not flower tomorrow,
Nor will bloom the champak.
Perfumes will not roam the garden
With uncovered head.
Nor like today
Will yielding branches
Bend to touch the earth,
Listen, O my life
I will not be here tomorrow.

The cranes will have scattered,
Flown far away.
By tomorrow, time, like a husband,
Will have carried off my pain.
No longer will flowers lie like jewels
Around the throat
Of the season tomorrow.
Listen, O my life
I will not be here tomorrow.

By daybreak the footprints on paths
Will not be traceable.
No longer will my songs sew a robe
True to separation.
Never will tears collect like this again,
Beneath the shadows of the past.
Listen, O my life
I will not be here tomorrow.

Not, like today, will we sit together again
You and I.
Not, like this, will will the sun rise tomorrow,
Nor, like this, will it set.
The bird of time
Will have collected
Every single grain of my breath.
Listen, O my life.
I will not be here tomorrow.
Tonight let us clutch a song tightly
And claim its kiss.

I have no complaint against
Heat or drought.
My garden was destroyed
By the dews of spring.

It is not the fault
Of the black night.
The ocean was defeated
By its beloved moon.

Who is it that
Blames death?
A man is destroyed,
By his birth.

The sun that rises
Is certain to sink.
He lies who says
The west destroyed it.

Yes, one can be destroyed
By grieving for dead friends,
Though it is more likely the result,
Of the display of that grief.

The enemy is not the murderer,
I tell you.
Shiv was killed
By those who loved him.

Puniya de chaNn nu koi masiya,
Keekan aragh chaRhaaye ve.
KyuN koi daachi saagar khaatar
Maaru thal CHaD jaaye ve.

KarmaaN di mahiNdi da sajana,
RaNg kiveN dahs chaRda ve,
Je kismat mirchaaN de pahtar,
PeeTh tali te laae ve.

Gham da motiya utar aaiya
Sidak mere di naeni ve,
Preet nagar da aukha paeNDa,
JindaRi kiNj mukaae ve.

KikaraaN de phullaaN di aRiya
Kaun kareNde raakhi ve,
Kad koi maali malhiyaaN utoN,
Hariyal aan uDaaye ve.

PeeRaaN de dharkone kha kha,
Ho gaye geet kasaule ve,
Vich naRoye baeTHi jiNdu
Keekan sohle gaaye ve.

PreetaaN de gahl CHuri phireNdi
Vekh ke kiNj kurlaavaaN ve,
Le chaaNdi de beeNg kasaaeeyaaN
Mere gale phasaaye ve.

TaRap taRap ke mar gayi aRiya,
Mel tere di hasrat ve,
Aese ishk de zulmi raaje
BirhoN baan chalaaye ve.

Chug chug roR gali teri de
GhuNgneeyaaN vaht chab laye ve,
KaTHe kar kar ke maeN teele
Buhkal vich dukhaaye ve.

Ik chuli vi pi na sahki
Piyaar de nitare paani ve,
VehNdiyaaN saar paye vich poore,
JaaN maeN honTH CHuhaae ve.

How can a moonless night
Offer anything to the full moon?
Why would a camel leave the desert,
For the ocean?

Tell me, how can the henna of good fortune
Color a hand,
If fate crushes pepper leaves
Upon ones palm?

Grief, like a cataract
Descended right into my eyes.
It is a terrible journey thru the valley of love
How can I live my life like this?

Who takes care
Of acacia flowers?
Does the gardener prune
A jujube bush?

My songs have turned bitter
From eating berries of pain.
Who can sing tender songs
With a life that feels like death.

How could I cry out
When I saw the blade move across love’s neck?
The butcher had thrust
His silver knife into my throat.

The yearning to be with you
Was my destruction.
Such were the arrows of separation,
Shot by the tyranical rulers of love.

I gathered pebbles from your street
And chewed them like boiled grain.
I collected bits of straw
And held them close.

Not one drop could I drink,
Of the pure water of love.
It became infested with worms
The moment it touched my lips.

If I walk on a moonlit night,
My shadow walks beside me,
O my life.

Moonlight hides in every lane,
Which lane should I take?
O my life.

The night-scents are vigilant,
And the wind is soothing,
O my life.

I am ignorant about these rays of moonlight,
Will I awaken one?
O my life.

If I awaken a ray of moonlight,
I will be branded a sinner,
O my life.

So I walk in fear,
Treading lightly,
O my life.

Separation was put in our swaddling cloth,
By our mothers,
O my life.

Since the beginning, light has been our enemy,
How can I let it touch my limbs?
O my life.

If I come to you on a moonlit night,
My shadow walks beside me,
O my life.

Moonlight hides in every lane
Which lane should I take?
O my life.

Kujh rukh maenu, puht lagde ne,
Kujh rukh lagde maavaaN.
Kujh rukh noohaaN theeyaaN lagde
Kujh rukh vaaNg bharaavaaN.
Kujh rukh mere baabe vaakan,
Pahtar TaavaaN TaavaaN.
Kujh rukh meri daadi varge
Choori paavan kaavaaN.
Kujh rukh yaaraaN varge lagde
Chuma te gal laavaaN,
Ik meri mahibooba vaakan,
MiTHa ate dukhaavaaN.
Kujh rukh mera dil karda e
MoDhe chuk khiDaavaaN.
Kujh rukh mera dil karda e
Chuma te mar jaavaaN.
Kujh rukh jad vi ral ke jhooman
Tej vagan jad vaavaaN,
Saavi boli sabh rukhaaN di
Dil karda likh jaavaN.
Mera vi eh dil karda e
Rukh di joone aavaaN.
Je tusaaN mera geet hae sunana,
MaeN rukhaaN vich gaavaaN.
Rukh taaN meri ma varge ne,
Jiyun rukhaaN deeyaaN CHaavaaN.

Some trees look like sons to me.
Some like mothers.
Some are daughters, brides,
A few like brothers.
Some are like my grandfather,
Sparsely leafed.
Some like my grandmother
Who threw choori to the crows.
Some trees are like the friends
I used to kiss and embrace.
One is my beloved
Sweet. Painful.
There are trees I would like
To throw on my shoulder playfully,
There are trees I would like
To kiss and then die.
The trees sway together
When strong winds blow.
I wish I could render
Their verdant, leafy language.
I wish that I could
Return as a tree
And if you wanted to listen to my song
I would sing it in the trees.
The trees are like my mother,
May their shade live forever.

Shikra - The Hawk

Maae! Ni maae!
MaeN ik shikra yaar banaaiya.
Uhde sir te kalgi,
Te uhde paereeN jhaaNjhar,
Te o chog chugeeNda aaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Ik uhde roop di
Dhup tikheri,
Dooja mahikaaN da tirhaaiya,
Teeja uhda raNg gulaabi
Kise gori ma da jaaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Naeni uhde
Chet di aathan,
Ate zulfeeN saavan CHaaya.
HoTHaaN de vich kahte da
Koi dihooN chaRne te aaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

SaahvaaN de vich
Phul soiyaaN de
Kise baag chanan da laaiya.
Dehi deh vich kheDe chetar,
ItraaN naal nuhaaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

BolaaN de vich
Paun pure di,
Ni o koyilaaN da hamsaaya.
ChiTe daNd jyuN dhaano bagala,
TauRi maar uDaaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Ishke da
Ik palaNgh nuwaari
AsaaN chaananiyaaN vich Daahiya.
Tan di chaadar ho gayi maeli
Us paer ja palaNghe paaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Dukhan mere
NaenaaN de koye,
Vich haR haNjhuaaN da aaiya.
Saari raat gayi vich sochaaN
Us e ki zulam kamaaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Subaah savere
Lae ni vaTana
AsaaN mal mal us nuhaaiya.
Dehi vichoN niklan chingaaN
Te saaDa hath giya kumhalaaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Choori kuTaaN
Te o khaaNda naaheeN
Uhnu dil da maas khavaaiya.
Ik uDaari aesi maari
O muR vatani na aaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Maae! Ni maae!
MaeN ik shikra yaar banaaiya.
Uhde sir te kalgi
Te uhde paereeN jhaaNjhar,
Te o chog chugeeNda aaiya.
Ni maeN vaari jaaN!

Mother! Mother!
I befriended a hawk.
A plume on his head
Bells on his feet,
He came pecking for grain.
I was enamored!

His beauty
Was sharp as sunlight.
He was thirsty for perfumes.
His color was the color of a rose,
The son of a fair mother.
I was enamored!

His eyes,
Were an evening in springtime.
His hair, a dark cloud.
His lips,
A rising autumn dawn.
I was enamored!

His breath
Was filled with flowers,
Like a sandalwood garden.
Spring danced thru his body
So bathed was it in fragrances.
I was enamored!.

In his words
Blew the eastern breeze,
Like the sound of a blackbird.
His smile was the whiteness of a crane in the rice fields,
Taking flight at the clap of a hand.
I was enamored!.

I laid
A bed of love
In the moonlight.
My body-sheet was stained
The instant he laid his foot on my bed.
I was enamored!

The corners of my eyes,
Hurt.
A flood of tears engulfed me.
All night long I tried to fathom
How he did this to me.
I was enamored!

Early in the morning
I scrubbed and bathed my body
With vaTana.
But embers kept bursting out,
And my hands flagged.
I was enamored!

I crushed choori,
He would not eat it.
So I fed him the flesh of my heart.
He took flight, such a flight did he take,
That he never returned.
I was enamored!

Mother! Mother!
I befriended a hawk.
A plume on his head
Bells on his feet,
He came pecking for grain.
I was enamored!

You left,
And grief cast its pall over me.
My pain condensed into a drop
And rose into my eye.

For a great distance
My sight kissed your footprints,
Until the trail
Was swallowed by the dust of the road.

Before you left,
There was the bloom of your youth,
I turned around after you left
And every flower had wilted.

Since that day
I stopped speaking, I could not see.
My tongue was silenced
My sight turned to stone.

The pain that you gifted
To love,
Was the pain finally
That consumed ‘Shiv’

The sun peeks out
From behind the high mountains,
Planting little seedling of light.
It crushes the yellow sunshine
Into small pieces,
Making anklets for the mountain tops!

Ankle deep in the wind
Flow perfumes,
The birds fall asleep.
Through a clump of green trees
A water channel flows
Piping a melody!

Seeing the blue lotus
In the mirror- like water
The drooping leaves weep.
The wind has tied
Tiny anklets around its feet,
And stamps her heels as she walks!

Raindrops asleep
On soft, tender shoots,
Are lit by sunbeams.
A tiny, golden bird
Calls to the travelers
With shrill whistles.

In the clear blue sky,
A kite circles,
Among the rays of light.
A flower becomes a drinking station,
As it offers droplets of sweet dew
To the bees.

A butterfly is at the door –
The maulsari spreads its fragrance generously,
Like alms to a mendicant!
In such a season,
In the name of your daughters,
Cover my pain
With a layer of sighs.

An old, tired ache
Plays guessing games,
On the paths of my sight.
A sweet, moody separation
Breaks over me,
And eats into my bones.

Unearth a way that I can
Meet my beloved,
And relieve my longing for a glimpse of her.
Bereft of our beloved,
We infatuated ones,
Are called insane.

There is no one here mother,
Whom I can call my own,
Who will share my pain.
At such a time, without my beloved,
I cannot spend a moment
In your town.

The sun peeks out
From behind the high mountains,
Planting little seedling of light.
Crushes the yellow sunshine
Into small pieces
To make anklets for the mountain tops!

Give me, O Lord
A few more songs.
My fire is dying,
Give me a spark.
At a very young age
I exhausted every sorrow.
For my youth
Give me a fresh pain.

Give me a song, like youth itself,
Beautiful, magical.
Like the redness of a rising day
That sparkles in a brimming lake.
Like the first star of the evening
That shines in a treeless desert.

Night is approaching my desert,
Give me a star or two,
Or let me sink, like the evening redness,
Into the brimming lake.

Lord, life is unbearable without a companion,
Unbearable without a song.
We all know that life has to be lived,
That pain has been sewn into it.
Do the deer drink the water
At every shore?
Let the water at my shore
Be washed away, undrunk.
Or take back the songs
That you let me write.

Lord, we should never extol beauty
Which is empty of fire,
Nor praise those eyes
Whose tears lack salt.
We should not sing a song bereft of pain,
Or write a word devoid of fragrance.
If my words are without fragrance
Tear them from the branch,
Or give me another song,
Like youth itself.

At a very young age
I exhausted every sorrow.
For my youth
Give me a fresh pain.

From this life-pond, o my song
Fill your beak
With the water of my existence.
It will not stay until tomorrow -
The radiance of pain,
Or the swans of grief.
Fill your beak today.

Listen ,o my song,
Life-ponds are deceptive,
They dry up in a flash.
The water of existence
Turns ashen and sour
Though you wish it would not happen.
Do not blame me tomorrow
Do not be angry tomorrow,
Fill your beak today.

I am told that the swans of grief
Are greedy.
When a heart dies, they sing.
They gather tears in the season of separation,
Gather them and fly.
They fly away, such a flight do they take,
They never return home.
Fill your beak today.

O my song,
If you fill your beak,
I will wrap it in gold,
I will become your slave,
I will become your shadow.
I beg you,
Do not, like me
Die thirsting,
Fill your beak today.

From this life-pond, o my song
Fill your beak
With the water of my existence.
It will not stay until tomorrow -
The radiance of pain,
Or the swans of grief.
Fill your beak today.