Ilzaam			Ilzaam – The Accusation
Mere te mere dost, TooN ilzaam lahgaaeeya! Tere shehar di ik titali - Da maeN raNg churaaeeya!			My friend, You have accused me Of stealing the color from a butterfly Of your town.
PaT ke maeN kise baahg choN Gulmohar da booTa, Sunsaan beeaabaan - MaeN maDHeya ‘ch lahgaaiya! HuNdi hae suaanjhane di - Jiven jaD ‘ch kuDitan, Ohna hi mere dil de jaDeeN Paap samaayae!			I tore out of a 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.
Badkaar haaN, badchalan haaN, Puj ke haaN kameena, Har gham da araz jaan ke MaeN tul banaayae! MaeN shikara haaN maenu chiReeyaaN di SohNdi naheeN yaari! KhoTe ne mere raNg - MaeN jhooTHa lalaari! Shuhrat di siyaah sapp - Mere gal ‘ch palamdae, Dass jaayega mere geetaaN sane, Dil di paTaari!			I am degenerate, immoral, You have judged me to be vile! I am well acquainted with pain and have deliberately Made it my strength. I am a bird of prey and do not care For the friendship of little birds. My colors are deceptive, I am a dishonest dyer. The inky serpent of fame Lays around my neck And strikes, with my songs, Little heart-baskets!
Meri peeR ashavthaama de - Vaakan hi amar hae! Dhae jaayegi par jisam di CHeti hi aTaari! GeetaaN di mahik badale - MaeN kookhaaN di vanaj kardaaN, Tu likhiya hae maeN bahut hi AlhaD haaN vapaari!			My pain, like Ashwathaama’s Is never-ending! You remind me that my body-room Will disintegrate soon enough. That it is not perfumed songs that I trade in But shrieks and wails. You tell me that I am An exceedingly immature trader.
Tu likhiyae, ki put kiran HuNde ne sada saaye! SaayaaN da naheeN faraz - Ki ho jaan paraaye! Saaye da faraz baNda hae Chaanan di vafaadaari, Chaanan ‘ch sada ahge - Te chaanan ‘ch hi mar jaaye!			The children of light, you write, Are always shadows! It is not the duty of shadows, To separate. The duty of a shadow is Devotion to light. To always emerge in light, And to extinguish itself in light.
Dukh huNde je piNjare da vi - UD jaaye pankheru, Par maeN te naveN roz ne Dahke te uDaaye! Kaaran hae havas iko Mere dil di udaasi, Jo geet vi maeN gaaye ne Maayoos ne gaaye!			A bird can fly away If it is unhappy 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.
TooN hor vi likhiyae, Kise titali de baare! Jis titali ne mere baahg ‘ch Kujh din si guzaare! Jis titali nu kujh chaaNdi de PhullaaN di THarak si, Jis titali nu chaahide si Sone de sitaare!			You also write About a butterfly. The butterfly who spent a short time In my garden, The butterfly with a weakness for, Silver flowers, The butterfly who desired, Golden stars.
Pyaara si ohda mukhaRa JyuN chaan chaReya ujaaReeN’ Mere geet jihdi nazar nu - San bahut piyaare!			Her face was sweet, Like the moon in a desert. My songs Were very dear to her.
MaNda saeN tooN maenu put Kise Saraswati da, Ahj raaye badal gayi teri Mere hae baare!			You used to consider me A son of Saraswati, Today your opinion about me Is altered!
Aakhir ‘ch tooN likheyae, Kujh sharam karaaN maeN! Beemaar jahe jisam - Te geetaaN de sane maeN, Tur jaavaaN tere desh di Ahj jooh choN paraaN maeN! Meri kaum nu mere thouthe jahe - Gham naheeN luReende, Maenu chaahidae mazdoor de - HakkaaN layi laRaaN maeN! Mehboob da raNg vaND diyaaN KanakaaN nu saara, Kuhl duniya da gham GeetaaN di muNdari ‘ch jaRaaN maeN! July 1971			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 should distribute the colors of my beloved To the grain in the fields, I should collect all the sorrow of the world And set it, like a jewel, in a ring of songs! July 1971
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